


Dandelions and Daisies

by JHsgf82



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Romance, Second Chances, Single Parents, Slow Burn, main pairing Everlark, secondary pairings Odesta and Hayffie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHsgf82/pseuds/JHsgf82
Summary: (AU) Peeta is a loving, single father who’s vowed it’ll always be just him and her, but as his daughter gets older, he questions his ability to raise her on his own.  A move brings changes and new people into their lives, and the more his daughter raves about her, the more Peeta is unable to contain his curiosity about his daughter’s teacher, the mysterious, seemingly aloof Miss Everdeen, who always seems to be there for his daughter when she’s in trouble.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 108
Kudos: 141





	1. The Move

**Author's Note:**

> Cover art credit to katnissandpeeta125 on Tumblr. Thank you!

_**Peeta** _

“Daddy, tell me a story!” the adorable blonde-haired, blue-eyed Daisy Mellark called out from her bed.

Peeta had just slipped into his pajamas for the evening, a white t-shirt and blue and orange flannel sleep bottoms; he’d been heading to the shower but had poked his head into his seven-year-old daughter’s room to say goodnight. He should have expected she’d beg him to stay, but after the long day they’d had, he was surprised Daisy had any energy left...

He’d gotten her up at the crack of dawn, which wasn’t unusual for him‒being a baker as he was‒but it was for her. He’d gotten her dressed, fed her breakfast, then strapped her into the backseat of their car with her pink and purple blanket and orange stuffed cat, and they’d said one last goodbye to their former home before driving the 12.7 miles to the Seam.

Well, it wasn’t quite the Seam, but it was right on the border between the Seam and the outskirts of the Capitol, two areas that despite their proximity were worlds apart.

Their home was straddling the border of the two districts so perfectly that Peeta’d been given the option of sending his daughter to one of two schools, either District 12 or Capitol Elementary. And he’d chosen District 12. Most of his family and friends had thought him crazy because District 12 was much more humble (or dirt-poor as everyone said), but he’d heard excellent reviews of the quality of education and particularly the teachers there.

Yes, the Seam might be a lower-income district of Panem, but Peeta had found a nice, quiet, safe neighborhood and a beautiful house, which both father and daughter had fallen in love with. Their new home was a small, canary yellow, two-story cottage style. It was charming and the perfect size for the two of them. It needed some work done, but that could be managed, and it did have a decent-sized, shrub-dotted yard and a picket fence. There was even a large tree in the front yard, which Peeta was told was a rare red mahogany, though he’d only cared that it looked perfect for putting up a swing for Daisy. It was thick and tall, too, and could surely accommodate a treehouse, but Daisy was afraid of climbing trees, so perhaps he’d build her a playhouse instead.

Or, at least he’d try. Peeta Mellark was good with his hands but usually only when it came to edibles, and he’d never built anything like that before.

Although it would be just the two of them living in the house, the Mellarks hadn’t done the move alone. Peeta’s old roommate, Finnick, had kindly agreed to help them, under the condition that Peeta buy him a dinner out, of course. It was a small price to pay for all that effort, Peeta supposed, even though Daisy and he didn’t have many possessions. As for his little pearl, she’d wanted to be helpful, too. She’d even tried carrying all of her stuff in, picking up this and that and attempting boxes way too heavy for her. Peeta had promptly taken those away, saying, “Don’t want to hurt your back, angel.”

After the move, Peeta had honestly thought Daisy would collapse before even reaching her room; nevertheless, here she was, bouncing up and down on her bottom in bed. It must be because she’s a child; children always seemed to have an extra reservoir of vitality that adults could no longer access. By contrast, Peeta was feeling like his energy well had long since dried up, and he was barely over 30. He was surely feeling the effects of the move, which seemed to have zapped the life out of him, managing to be even more tiresome than lifting bags of flour all day. Maybe it was more the emotional drain than the physical. Either way, his entire body ached, and he wanted nothing more than to get into a hot shower and fall face-first into bed, but he couldn’t deny his little girl.

So, Peeta summoned what was left of his energy, put on a wide smile, and strolled over to the white bookshelf he’d painted flowers on, himself, two years ago. “What’ll it be, princess?” he asked, scanning the shelves. He pulled a thin storybook out, glanced at the title, and held it up to her. “How about The Gingerbread Man?”

It had been one of the first stories he’d ever told her, he supposed because he was a baker and it was the first thing that had popped into his head that evening. Tonight, it had just been the one to jump out at him. Briefly, Peeta wondered if his daughter was sick of hearing stories about baking and baked goods‒he’d also delighted her with “The Muffin Man” and of course “Pat-a-Cake” and an embarrassing number of others which made it seem like he could think of nothing other than food.

To Peeta’s surprise, Daisy bobbed her head up and down, causing her blonde curls to bounce‒she wanted to hear The Gingerbread Man, even though he’d told it to her who knows how many times. He no longer even needed the book, but she liked to look at the pictures, so book in hand, he sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Noo, Daddy,” Daisy whined, tugging back the covers and making room for him to climb in. As he did so, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. The warmth and smell of his daughter’s hair and skin was the best thing ever, better than anything that came out of the bakery. He noticed she had on her favorite frilly pink nightgown, which was still a bit too big on her. Being the dunce he was, he’d gotten the wrong size, but she’d liked it so much that she wouldn’t let him take it away to exchange it. It, at least, brought him joy to know he’d picked out something she liked so much. He smiled to himself and planted a kiss atop her golden head, and he opened the book.

The story was actually the perfect choice to comfort Daisy because she found it funny, especially when he did the voices. The first time he told it to her, however, Peeta recalled her getting so concerned when the fox was about to eat the Gingerbread Man that he changed the story, allowing the gingerbread man to escape. Funny thing was, she had no problem biting the heads off and gobbling up the cinnamon-sprinkled, iced ones he made around Christmastime.

Come to think of it, though, she had been a little hesitant to eat a Gingerbread Man the first time. She’d needed to make extra sure he wasn’t real. They’d started playing a game called ‘Real or Not Real’ after that. If Daisy was curious or concerned about something, she’d always ask Peeta ‘Real or Not Real.’ And he’d always tried to be honest with her. There was, however, a time or two when he’d fibbed a little for her own protection. And he had made a few other stories nicer for her, like Hansel and Gretel.

After finishing this particular story, Peeta leaned in to kiss the side of Daisy’s forehead. She, in turn, pulled herself up by his broad shoulder and pecked him back on the cheek. He then bid her goodnight and dropped one leg over the side of her bed, but he didn’t make it far, for she clutched onto the sleeve of his t-shirt. “No, Daddy, don’t leave me!” she shouted.

Her blue eyes widened as she began to panic, and she grasped his shirt even tighter, twisting it beneath her tiny palm. Peeta didn’t attempt to free himself from her vice-like grip, only spoke soothingly, “Leave you? Never, sweetheart.”

Her worried expression barely changed. She gave a sharp shake of the head. “Don’t go to your room, Daddy. Stay,” she commanded. “I’m s-scared.”

He wasn’t surprised that she was. It only made sense. Even though she’d been sleeping in her own bed for nearly two years now, she was still prone to the occasional nightmare, and she was sleeping in a new room in a new home in a new neighborhood for the very first time. She’d initially been excited about the move, but naturally, things would change when darkness fell and a child was faced with the prospect of waking up alone in a strange place.

Daisy continued staring up at him with those big doe eyes as she pleaded, “Daddy, will you stay with me?”

He smiled softly, and what else was there to say in response but “Always.” Daisy’s lips quirked into a little smile of her own as he held out his pinky to seal the promise. “It’s you and me, sweetheart, always.”

And Peeta truly believed that. His family and friends had all encouraged him to look for a woman, for Daisy’s sake, at least try dating a little, for his own sake, but what was the point? It wasn’t like the perfect woman for him was just going to fall from the sky in his lap. He wasn’t even sure he could feel that way about someone else again‒a love like he’d felt didn’t come along every day. At the very least, he knew he wasn’t yet ready to try again.

He felt Daisy settle against him, her heartbeat and breathing beginning to slow down as she drifted off. And he ran a hand through his blond curls. Why was it still so hard to accept?

At least things were looking up. They had a fresh start, a new venture, which could be intimidating but also exciting. And maybe a change of scenery was just what they needed. Peeta and his brother had purchased the bakery in town and were fixing it up, and tomorrow, he’d be heading there to check it out, and as for Daisy, she would start school at District 12 Elementary in Miss Everdeen’s class. It would be a big, big, big, big day for the both of them.


	2. First Day Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy's first day at District 12

_**Katniss** _

It was 7:55 AM, and Katniss had just enough time to stop in the teacher’s lounge for a cup of coffee before school began. She wasn’t really a big coffee drinker; in fact, she found it to be rather bitter and always had to add plenty of cream and sugar to it, but she’d tried it and it’d given her a good jolt in the morning, so she’d gotten into the habit of having a cup.

As soon she walked into the lounge, she was greeted with a “Hey, Brainless” by the lean, spiky-haired brunette at the table in the back.

She rolled her eyes at the nickname she’d heard hundreds of times, responding casually, “Hey, Johanna.”

Katniss had known Johanna Mason since college, and despite how very different they were, she hadn’t been able to shake her off. Johanna would deny it, but Katniss wasn’t wholly convinced Johanna hadn’t followed her to this school just to be around to torment her. Still, Johanna wasn’t all bad.

Fortunately, there was freshly made coffee. Katniss opened the cupboard and reached for her personal mug. Designed by her students, it’d been hand-painted with pine trees and a glowing sunset and had ‘Miss Everdeen’ scrawled across the top in her favorite color. She pulled out her mug and filled it, adding the necessary condiments and stirring until it was just the perfect shade, a soft caramel. Then she carried her mug over to her usual spot next to Johanna. There was no use sitting elsewhere‒Johanna would either follow or yell at her from across the room.

“Nice mug,” Johanna said wryly, tracing the lettering of her energy drink.

“Thanks. It was a gift from my students.” Katniss knew Johanna was being sarcastic, but she held it up with pride. They’d done a nice job on it.

Johanna nodded. “Well, it fits.” She got a little smirk on her face. “Considering you’re a tree-hugger.”

Katniss shook her head. Johanna called her a tree-hugger because her specialization in college had been botany. She’d studied science education and had wanted to be a high school science teacher but had ended up in elementary education and was eventually hired as the second-grade teacher at District 12. Even though it wasn’t the original plan, she loved it here.

As for Johanna, she was the girls’ P.E. teacher. Johanna was a jock all the way, and even though Katniss was in shape, she was sure Johanna could kick her ass with one hand tied behind her back. That is, in all but a few select areas.

“You’re more a tree-hugger than I am,” Katniss remarked as she blew on her coffee. “Didn’t your hometown have a big lumber mill?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t work there, Brainless.”

“Well, just because I know about trees doesn’t mean I hug them.” She took a test sip of her coffee.

“Touché.”

“Anyway, I prefer herbs and shrubs.” Katniss took a larger sip of her coffee.

There was nothing unusual about this exchange; it was a regular occurrence. As much as Katniss would love a nice quiet morning, Johanna couldn’t seem to help antagonizing her. Katniss got a momentary reprieve, however, when Johanna received a lengthy message and took the time to read through it.

Just then, Gale Hawthorne walked in. Gale was the boys’ P.E. teacher. He was tall and dark-skinned like Katniss, with similar silver eyes; he looked so much like her, in fact, that people had mistaken them for cousins.

Katniss and Johanna looked up almost simultaneously.

“Hey, Catnip,” Gale greeted Katniss first in his familiar manner.

Yes, this place was full of strange nicknames. As for Katniss’s, Gale called her that because she’d only muttered her name to him the first time she told him and that’s what he’d thought she said. And the nickname stuck, much to Katniss’s chagrin.

Aside from the nickname thing, Katniss got along with Gale. Neither of them was chatty or particularly sociable, and they’d bonded over their love for the outdoors and hunting. He’d even been to the shooting range with her, and they’d gone hunting a couple of times.

“Hey, Gale,” Katniss said, raising her mug to her lips.

Gale turned slightly toward Johanna. “Mason,” he greeted her as an afterthought.

“Hawthorne.”

Katniss had to wonder, what was it with the whole calling-each-other-by-their-last-name thing? She supposed it was another jock thing.

Johanna took a giant swig of her energy drink and slammed the can down. She then proceeded to sneer in Gale’s general direction, and Katniss could only assume they were fighting about something. It was usually something stupid; one of them made a dumb remark or some kind of macho, competitive thing. Katniss only hoped they taught the students better sportsmanship than they displayed themselves. Gale sneered back then took a seat beside Katniss, and Johanna went back to her phone.

A few seconds later, Johanna muttered, “Aw, shit.”

“What?” Katniss asked.

“I forgot I have bus duty tomorrow. Damn, I have plans.” Johanna leaned into Katniss, nudging her with her shoulder and grinning coyly. “Can you take it for me, Brainless?”

“You really think calling me names is the way to get what you want?”

Johanna glared at her. “Fine, Katnissss.”

“I can’t.”

Johanna groaned. “So, you made me butter you up just to say no?!”

“Using my actual name is not buttering me up.”

“Whatever. You did that on purpose, Brainless. Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I do you favors all the time, and I have things to do.”

“Like what? When do you ever have plans?”

“Really making me want to do you a favor, Mason,” Katniss remarked dryly. “I said I have things to do; that should be good enough. What pressing engagement do you have at 3:30 in the afternoon?”

Ever stubborn, Johanna wouldn’t say, only disgustedly hissed, “Berry eater!”

“Lumberjack,” Katniss shot back.

Gale guffawed. “Mason does act like a lumberjack. Dresses like one, too.”

“Look who’s talking, Paul Bunyan!” Johanna turned on Gale. She was, of course, referring to Gale’s height. He wasn’t really all that tall, more like slightly above average height for a man, but to a petite female, he towered. “I think your ass needs chopped down a few rings!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I thought this was between you two,” Gale tried to redirect Johanna back to Katniss, and momentarily, it worked. Johanna spun around to face Katniss.

“So?”

Katniss ignored her and proceeded to walk over to the sink and wash her coffee mug out.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“Ladies, ladies, I got an idea. Why don’t we take this to the gym to settle it.”

Katniss turned to look at Gale over her shoulder. “It’ll have to be after school.” She was actually planning on just taking the bus duty for Johanna, but it was entertaining to see her squirm for a change. Whatever these plans were, they must be important.

“Alright, then,” Gale said. “I’ll moderate. Seems like you two need it. But what should the competition be in?” He stroked his chin. “Wrestling?”

“No,” Katniss replied immediately. “How about the rope?”

“No way, tree-hugger!” Johanna retorted. “You’re way too good at climbing! And don’t even think about suggesting archery!”

“How about a race?” Gale suggested. “Whoever loses gets bus duty.”

“Yeah!” Johanna rubbed her hands together. “And maybe we should sweeten the deal a little; we need something more...what else does the winner get?” She grinned maliciously at Katniss.

“Pride,” Katniss replied.

Johanna scoffed. “I was thinking more along the lines of something green and valuable, and no, not leaves, Brainless.”

Gale shook his head. “Sheesh, so ruthless. What happened to all the delicate females out there?”

It was then that a shift rivaling the tectonic plates happened, and in a sudden show of solidarity, both women turned on Gale.

“Excuse me, Paul Bunyan?” Johanna snipped, her piercing gaze practically burning him like a laser.

Gale wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Was it better to insist they were or weren’t delicate females, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he should just feign ignorance. Johanna Mason and Katniss Everdeen were anything but delicate females‒beautiful, yes, though he’d never say it to their faces, but delicate, certainly not. “Uhh,” was all he managed to get out.

Gale knew he should just shut up, but when Johanna pressed him, he told her exactly what he thought. “Well, you could be a little more feminine.”

Johanna growled and slipped out of her chair. She strode over to his side and practically thrust her chest in his face. “I’ll show you feminine!”

Katniss wasn’t sure whether Johanna planned to kill Gale or give him a lap dance, but neither was appropriate for school. She planned to just leave, but Gale’s pleading look to her over Johanna’s shoulder softened her.

“Johanna.”

“What?” Johanna shot back. “Did you hear what he said?”

“I heard.” Katniss put away her mug. “And you should ignore it.” Seriously, she felt like she was talking to her students right now. Gale and Johanna had about the same mentality sometimes.

Katniss faced them with one hand on her hip. She shot them a last ‘play nice’ look before turning to leave. But then, Gale directed a comment at her. “You know, you could stand to dress a bit more feminine, too, Catnip.”

She didn’t know why the hell Gale couldn’t keep his mouth shut today. Usually, he wasn’t so combative. There must be something in the air…

As much as she hated him to see he’d gotten to her, Katniss glanced down at her pale blue collared shirt, gray dress pants, belt, and black loafers. She didn’t think herself unfeminine. So she didn’t wear tight pencil skirts and frilly floral blouses like some other teachers, but it wasn’t her style, and who was she hoping to impress here? She dressed professionally.

To her surprise, Johanna had her back. “Listen, Hawthorne, Brainless here is plenty feminine, just not at work, and you know I could take you on a ride you’d never forget!” She shoved his shoulder hard, making him groan.

And on that note… Katniss tossed her braid over her shoulder and started walking out the door.

Johanna’s eyes shot to Katniss. “Where ya going?” she demanded.

Well, she definitely didn’t want to stick around for this…

“As much fun as this has been,” Katniss said sarcastically, “I need to get to class.”

And her timing was perfect. Just as she stepped out of the lounge, she heard Claudius’s voice booming over the speakers, making the morning announcements.

* * *

 _ **Peeta**_  
  
Peeta sat in the small administrative office of District 12 Elementary in suit and tie. He’d need to change once he got to the construction site of the bakery or he’d just get dirty, but he’d wanted to look nice while dropping his little girl off on her first day. As for Daisy, she was seated quietly beside him in a polka dot dress, her unicorn lunchbox resting in her lap. They were waiting to see the principal.

A woman entered the office. She wore a bright magenta skirt suit and had her hair in a giant bright orange beehive that was clearly a wig. She looked over at Peeta and Daisy. Daisy flinched at the sight of her heavily made-up face and gripped Peeta’s forearm. “I’m so sorry for your wait,” the strange-looking woman trilled. “I was just seeing to the morning arrivals.”

Peeta stood and extended his hand. “I’m Peeta Mellark.”

The woman shook it daintily with a few fingers rather than the entire palm. “Charmed, Mr. Mellark. I’m Miss Effie Trinket, secretary to Principal Abernathy. Aand...I don’t know where he’s gotten to…” She glanced around the room then to his closed door. She squinted suspiciously at the door before looking down at Daisy. “Soo, this is our new arrival!” Miss Trinket clapped her gloved hands together. “How lovely you are, my dear.”

Peeta smiled. “Yes, this is my daughter.” He turned toward Daisy. “Would you like to introduce yourself, honey?”

Daisy, who was still seated, said nothing, so Peeta leaned down to whisper in her ear. She promptly hopped off the chair with her lunchbox and smoothed out her dress with her free hand.

The sound of a door creaking came from behind them, and a paunchy, scruffy middle-aged man in a dark blue suit lumbered out of the office.  
“Sorry about that,” the man said. “I, uh, had some business to attend to.” Miss Trinket glared at him.

“Well, that’s alright, Hay-er-Principal Abernathy,” Miss Trinket said in that high-pitched voice of hers. “You’re here now, that’s the important thing. Now then, this is our new arrival.” Miss Trinket waved a hand in Daisy’s direction.

“Ohh, is that so?” Principal Abernathy strolled over and crouched down beside Daisy and gave her a molasses smile. “Well, what’s your name, sweetheart?”  
Daisy was quiet as a church mouse.

“Don’t you have a name?" Principal Abernathy grumbled. “Come on, tell me now.”

Peeta stroked Daisy’s back. “It’s okay, honey. They’re not strangers. You can tell them your name.”

Daisy nodded. She choked out a couple of Ds before turning away from Principal Abernathy and burying her face in her father’s pant leg.

“Oh, look what you’ve done now!” Miss Trinket exclaimed, swatting Principal Abernathy away. “You’ve scared the poor child!”

“What? I was just talking to the child.”

“Yes, and look how you did it! With that strange grin as if you were some creep trying to coax her away with candy. Then you demanded to know her name. No wonder she’s frightened! Honestly!”

The two proceeded to argue amongst themselves.

Peeta frowned at the oddity of the whole thing. Had these two ever been around children? They had to have been, considering they worked at a school. He gently cleared his throat, effectively ceasing the two’s argument. “Uh, this is Daisy.”

The bickering pair returned their attention to Peeta and Daisy.

“Of course, Daisy! So good to meet you, dear,” Miss Trinket trilled.

“Yes, a pleasure, young lady,” Principal Abernathy added.

Miss Trinket sidled up next to Peeta. “Don’t mind Principal Abernathy, Mr. Mellark,” she whispered. “His bark is worse than his bite, I assure you.” The next part she said loud enough for her counterpart to hear. “Aside from the obvious hygiene issue…” She not-so-subtly sneered in his general direction, “and the at-titude problem, he’s actually a decent human being and educator.”

Peeta gave a conciliatory nod. “Yes, well, I just wanted to make sure Daisy got settled.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Mellark.” Miss Trinket tapped him on the shoulder. “We have all of her paperwork in order, so it’s just a matter of escorting her to Miss Everdeen’s class.”

“Oh, yes, I’d appreciate if someone could show her the way. I wouldn’t want her to get lost and be afraid,” Peeta said.

“Of course not, Mr. Mellark. We can’t have that! I’ll take her there personally!” Miss Trinket sang.

A woman entered the office. She had flowing reddish-brown hair and sea-green eyes and wore a pair of light pink scrubs.

“Or better yet…” Miss Trinket glanced over at the woman. “Miss Cresta?”

“Yes, Miss Trinket?” The redhead made her way over.

“Mr. Mellark, this is Miss Annie Cresta, our school nurse. Nurse Cresta, Mr. Peeta Mellark and Miss Daisy Mellark,” Miss Trinket made a quick introduction. Peeta and Miss Cresta nodded to one another. “I believe Miss Everdeen’s class is on the way to your clinic. Would you be so kind as to escort Miss Daisy there?”

“Yes, Miss Trinket.”

Miss Trinket looked over at Peeta. “I assure you Miss Everdeen is a real gem. You’ll love her, really. Right, Principal Abernathy?”

“Ohh, yeah, yeah,” Principal Abernathy chimed in. “A real gem. Kinda the unpolished type, you know.” Peeta looked at him curiously. “What I mean is she aint gonna be earnin’ no awards for her, uh, social skills, but she’s a real good teacher, and the kids seem to like her lots.”

Miss Trinket gave a derisive snort as her head snapped toward the principal. “Honestly, I don’t know which is worse, your grammar or your manners!” She turned back to Peeta. “Don’t listen to him. Miss Everdeen is perfectly lovely.”

Peeta nodded. “Yes, well, I’d love to meet Miss Everdeen, but unfortunately I have to get to the work.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Mellark. Now, don’t you worry. We’ll take very good care of your little girl.”

“Thank you.” Peeta pressed his lips together and knelt in front of Daisy. “You okay, honey?” He smoothed out her hair and framed her small face with his large hands. “I’m gonna go now, okay?” He kissed the top of her head and stood.

Miss Cresta sidled up to Daisy and offered her hand, and Daisy accepted it. “Mr. Mellark, you can walk with us part of the way, and I’ll show you out.”

Peeta strolled down the hall with Nurse Cresta and Daisy. He didn’t attempt to hold Daisy’s hand but let her continue to hold Miss Cresta’s while he walked alongside. It was better she got used to the people here and that he distance himself as soon as possible, especially since he would be leaving her in only a few minutes.  
When they reached the exit, which Nurse Cresta pointed out, Peeta said a last goodbye to Daisy. She didn’t rush to hug him, though he could tell she wanted to; she was clearly trying to be brave. He was proud of her. As he pushed through the double doors, he tried not to well up. He did, however, take one last look through the glass. Daisy was standing there, watching him and holding up her hand in a static wave while clutching Nurse Cresta’s with the other. He smiled, threw up a wave, and then turned around to head to his car.

As he walked to his car, Peeta was feeling a bit worried. He hoped he hadn’t made a poor choice in choosing District 12. The principal and secretary were quite strange, although they seemed nice enough, and the nurse seemed pleasant and normal. He would’ve liked to have gotten a peek at Miss Everdeen in the classroom, but there was no time, and if Daisy saw him it would just make it harder for her to adjust.

It’ll be fine, he told himself. Colorful characters aside, he had a good feeling about District 12. It made absolutely no sense, but somehow, he could see them making a home here.

* * *

 _ **Katniss**_  
  
Katniss was in the middle of passing out the morning work when she heard a soft rap at the partially opened door. She could see through the opening that It was Annie and a small girl. She assumed this was her new student. She went to the door and beckoned them in.

“Good morning, Miss Everdeen,” Annie greeted.

“Good morning, Nurse Cresta.” Katniss looked down at the small blonde girl. “Hello there.”

“This is your new student, Miss Daisy Mellark,” Annie said.

Katniss crouched down before Daisy. “Hello, Daisy. My name is Miss Everdeen. I’ll be your teacher. I’m pleased to meet you.” She smiled and held her hand out. Tentatively, Daisy placed her hand in Katniss’s, and Katniss gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Katniss thanked Annie and led Daisy in. Placing a hand gingerly on her back, she showed her to her desk then went for a rectangular nametag for her desk. She brought some crayons and markers along. Katniss placed the plain white nametag that read ‘Daisy’ in big, block letters in front of her. “You can decorate your nametag however you want, Daisy,” she told her. Then she leaned in to whisper, “But before you do that, do you want to say your name for the class? You don’t have to…” Katniss added the last part because some kids were shy, and she didn’t like to put them on the spot. Daisy hesitated but then bobbed her head up and down.

Daisy stood up at her desk, smoothed out her dress, and placed her hands behind her back. She proceeded to open her mouth. It took two tries, but she managed to get out, “My name is Daisy Mellark.” She added a little curtsy, and Katniss was pretty sure it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.  
Katniss smiled softly. “Thank you, Daisy. Class, please welcome our new student, Daisy Mellark.”

The class responded in unison, “Nice to meet you, Daisy.” And Daisy took a seat and began work on her nametag. Katniss watched for a moment before returning to the front of the classroom.

“Now, why don’t we all say our names for Daisy. We’ll go around the room.” Katniss went down the rows, having each child stand and say their name until all 23 students had done so. Totaling 24 counting Daisy, it was a bit larger than the average class should be, but their district had been overpopulated as of late.  
“Since we’re on the subject of names, let’s talk about mine. What’s my name, everyone?”

“Miss Everdeen,” the class chimed.

“Yes.” Katniss chuckled. “But does anyone know my first name?”

There was silence. Katniss wrote her first name on the blackboard and pronounced it for them.

“Katniss. Now, does anyone know what my name means? I’ll give you a hint; it fits in with our science lesson.”

The room was quiet.

“Okay. My name is a plant. It’s an aquatic plant, which means it grows in water. The katniss plant, genus Sagittaria in Latin.”

The short dark-haired Thomasina Latier raised her hand. “As in the constellation Sagittarius, Miss Everdeen,” she stated, adjusting her black glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, Thomasina, very good. The archer. And the katniss plant is actually shaped like an arrowhead.” Katniss scrawled out the shape of the leaves on the blackboard. “Some other names for the katniss plant are duck potato and swamp potato.”

A few giggles emanated from the room.

“It’s true. Now, the katniss leaves are edible, but the underwater tubers are even more nutritious, and they’re quite sweet.” Katniss drew some water and a few floating tubers. “In late fall or early spring, you can find them growing in swampy areas. You can dig up the mud, and the tubers will float to the surface.”

Katniss recalled doing this as a child with her father, rooting the tubers up with their toes. He always used to say, ‘As long as you can find yourself, you’ll never starve.’ She smiled wistfully at the memory then released a soft sigh and turned her attention back to the students.

“Keep in mind, class, you have to be very careful with plants. Many are edible but take even just a small bite,” she pinched her fingers together, “out of the wrong one and you’re dead.” She punctuated the last word for effect.

There were a few gasps, and one of the boys exclaimed ‘cool!’ It sounded like it came from Marvel’s son, Mirakel.

Katniss was being a tad dramatic, of course, but there were some very deadly plants out there, many masquerading as harmless ones, so she wanted to get her point across.

“No, it’s not cool to die, Mirakel.” Katniss said matter-of-factly. She turned to look out across the body of students. “But not to worry. Just don’t eat anything you’re uncertain of, and always ask your parents first. Any questions?”

The Mellark girl’s hand shot straight up. “Yes, Daisy?”

“My name is a plant, too, Miss Everdeen.”

“Yes, Daisy, a flower.”

“Do you know about my name, too?”

Katniss smiled. “I do, Daisy. But first, can you tell me what you know?”

“Well,” The tiny blonde girl thought for a moment, “I know what they look like.”

“Can you tell me?”

“Well, they…”

Daisy began to describe the daisy, and Katniss drew it on the board from her description. “Like this?” she asked.

Daisy smiled and nodded.

“Now, I must apologize, class. I’m not much of an artist,” Katniss said. A few more giggles were heard.

“My daddy’s an artist!” Daisy Mellark proclaimed simultaneously with raising her hand.

“Oh? That’s very nice.”

“Yeah,” Daisy’s head bobbed up and down, “He’s a painter.”

Katniss smiled. “Well, perhaps he could come in someday and show us what a daisy really looks like.” The look on Daisy’s face and the way her eyes darted back and forth suggested she might be considering asking her father to do just that. “I was only teasing, Daisy,” Katniss clarified. “I’m sure your daddy is much to busy to come to our class just to draw a flower. So, I suppose Miss Everdeen’s poor attempt will have to do.”

All this plant talk‒and the notion of Katniss’s lack of artistic ability‒had given her an idea. She could commission the class to create a plant book with pictures, drawings, and detailed descriptions of the plants they were studying. What would be even better would be to find some samples and bring them in. Perhaps they could even grow some in class. Katniss was becoming excited by the prospect.

“Since it’s time for science class anyway, let’s continue learning about plants,” Katniss said. And she went on to teach them more about the namesake of their newest member. “The common daisy, Bellis perennis, that’s its botanical name.” Katniss wrote it on the board. “Don’t worry about memorizing that or learning how to spell it just yet, class.”

“Do you remember talking about Kingdoms, Orders and Families, class?” she went on. There were some yeses and some nods of the head. “Well, the Bellis perennis is of the Kingdom...can you guess?”

The hand of a dark-skinned boy with glasses went up, Ben Latier, Thomasina’s twin. “Yes, Ben?”

“Plantae.”

“Correct.” Katniss wrote it on the board.

“How about Order or Family?” No one raised their hand, so Katniss told them. “The Order is Asterales, and the Family is Asteraceae.” She wrote them on the board.  
When Katniss turned her head back, the Mellark girl’s hand was up again. She was glad the child had quickly gotten over her initial shyness.

“Yes, Daisy?”

Rather than asking a question, Daisy commented again. “You know a lot about plants, Miss Everdeen.”

Katniss nodded. “Well, I studied plants in school, Daisy.” The little girl bobbed her head then grew quiet again.

“So, the daisy is a perennial herbaceous plant. Does anyone know what that means?” The class was silent. Katniss wrote ‘perennial’ and ‘herbaceous’ on the board. “Perennial means that it lives for more than two years, and herbaceous means they are land plants with no woody stems.” Katniss turned her attention on Daisy again. “Can you tell us anything else about the daisy, Daisy?”

Daisy shook her head, and Katniss began to turn away. But then, she caught sight of her hand going up again. “My daddy says my name means innocence and purity.”

“Yes, that’s right. It also means ‘Day’s Eye’ because the petals close at night and open at daybreak. If you’ve ever heard the phrase ‘fresh as a daisy,’ class, that’s because the daisy always gets a good night’s rest.” Several students giggled, and Daisy smiled brightly. “Another thing you might find interesting,” Katniss continued, on a roll now, “is that the daisy is a composite flower, meaning it is actually two flowers in one. It has an inner section called a disc floret and an outer section called a ray floret.” Katniss outlined it on the board. “And if you like romantic things, because the two parts fit together so well, the daisy is said to symbolize…”

“True love!” Daisy exclaimed. Having forgotten to raise her hand, she raised it after the fact, and Katniss nodded to her. “My daddy told me that’s why he named me that,” she said sheepishly.

Katniss grinned. “See, I knew your daddy was smart,” she complimented, which made the girl smile widely, revealing a missing tooth on the left side.

Daisy nodded vibrantly. “Oh, he is; he is! He knows a lot of things!”

Katniss gave Daisy a warm smile and went on with her lesson. “And class, did you know, not only is the daisy beautiful, but it’s also edible. Like the katniss plant. You can eat the petals and buds of the daisy. I’ve tried them, makes a nice salad.” Laughter rang around the room. “I’m serious.”

Suddenly nostalgic for the woods, Katniss had gotten another idea. She’d have to have a little chat with Haymitch…

The morning progressed as usual. Daisy continued to be chatty and brought up her daddy frequently. Odd thing was, she never mentioned her mommy, and Katniss suspected she wasn’t in the picture. Her suspicion was confirmed when she passed by and noticed Daisy’s completed desk nametag. She’d drawn a picture of her and her daddy and labeled it. There were birds, butterflies, flowers, and a meadow surrounding them, but no mommy in the picture.

***  
  
While the children ate their lunches in the cafeteria, Katniss took her homemade lunch and joined her usual group in the teacher’s lounge. Johanna was already there, chomping away on a power bar. Katniss took a seat next to her and pulled out her Tupperware.

“Where’s Gale?” Katniss asked.

“Please. Like I care where that dolt is.”

Katniss smirked.

“Anyway, I think he said something about taking a few laps before lunch.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Needs it, too. He’s starting to get fat.” Johanna bit off another chunk.

The corner of Katniss’s lip twitched. “Gale is not fat.”

Johanna simply shrugged and finished her last bite, proceeding to crumple up the wrapper.

Normally Katniss wasn’t much for idle conversation, but today, she brought up a topic first.

“I have the cutest little girl in class, new girl,” she muttered as she opened the lid to her salad. “Blonde. Sweet as can be.”

“New girl?” Johanna turned toward Katniss. “That wouldn’t happen to be the Mellark girl, would it?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Katniss, this is a teeny tiny school. How many new kids do you think we get, especially transfers? Who’d transfer here? But when one does, you’d better believe they’re the hot topic.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Katniss poked around at her salad. She didn’t need to pump Johanna of information but merely look at her for her to go on.

“I hear she lives with her dad. He’s the new baker in town. He’s eligible and hot. Or so I hear. I haven’t had the opportunity to check out the goods myself yet.”

Katniss shook her head, suddenly sorry she’d brought the subject up. Still, she was curious about Daisy. From what Johanna said, it was as she’d expected‒Daisy didn’t live with her mom. She wondered how often she saw her mom or if she saw her.

“Mellark is overseeing construction of the bakery. Maybe I’ll take the long way to work tomorrow and check out how...sweet his buns are.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. She could just picture Johanna loitering around the bakery site, leering at the ‘fresh meat’ and making suggestive comments like that. She could never fully figure her out. One minute she was bashing men, saying she needed no one, and the next, she was seeking her next easy conquest. Maybe that was the problem…

“Maybe the men’ll be working without their shirts and wearing tight pants.”

Katniss sniffed. “Yeah, because that cliche is always true. I thought you’d sworn off men, anyway, Johanna.”

Johanna shrugged. “We’ll see. Depends on the size of his...”

“Johanna...”

“Baguette.”

God. Johanna probably had a hundred bakery euphemisms up her sleeve. Katniss fought the growing heat in her cheeks. She quickly looked away and shoved in a mouthful of salad. Chancing a glimpse at her friend, Katniss noticed an evil little smirk playing on her lips.

So, as usual, she was just trying to get to her.

Johanna cackled. “Oh, Brainless, you’re so pure.” She proceeded to rip open a bag of chips then shove it toward Katniss, offering to share.

***  
Today, it was Katniss’s turn to supervise the children on the playground. She always got roped (pun intended) into a game of jump rope or two or pushing children on the swings, occasionally being the counter for hide-n-seek, but so far they’d been entertaining themselves.

Katniss scanned the area, observing the children at play. Glimmer’s daughter, Shimmer, had her posse of girls‒and boys‒over by the castle slide. Shimmer was bossy and a complete diva, so she was atop the castle, holding out her hand regally and shouting orders at the boys, probably playing princess and commanding her knights to go and do her bidding for her. And many of the boys did, either because they liked her or were scared of her.

Ben and Thomasina, the Latier children, were playing together as usual; they appeared to be doing some kind of experiment, analyzing a piece of grass with a magnifying glass. The two were sharp as tacks, just like their parents, Beetee and Wiress, who were electrical engineers and worked for Panem’s electrical company. As for their children, Ben and Thomasina were also very tech-savvy and considered weird by most of their classmates, but they didn’t seem to mind. They simply kept to themselves and seemed to enjoy playing together.

Katniss’s eyes roamed, and she saw the morphling child, Blake. His was a sad case. Taken away from his parents due to drugs, he’d been placed in the community home. He didn’t have many friends, but he was usually content to occupy himself with drawing or painting. Despite the adversity, he was a bright kid and a talented artist for his age. Katniss always tried to give his artwork special attention and check on him here and there. Right now, he was engaged in creating what looked to be an elaborate chalk drawing on the concrete near the school. Katniss began to head over to take a look at his drawing when she caught sight of Daisy Mellark.

She was sitting all alone on the swings. And she was crying…

Katniss went to her immediately.

When she crouched down in front of her, Daisy looked up. “Miss Everdeen?” She quickly wiped at her face.

“Daisy, what’s the matter?”

Daisy sniffled a few times before finally choking out, “A boy said I’m weird.”

Katniss’s lips parted. “Which boy was it, Daisy?” She glanced around for anyone nearby or watching. Daisy went on to describe the boy’s hair and how he looked mean. Katniss knew who he was instantly.

Cato’s son, Brandan. Dammit, that little brat…

Katniss caught sight of Brandan play-fighting with Mirakel. She turned back to look at Daisy.

“He said I talk too much and that…my hair...looks like…like a...rat’s nest!” Daisy blurted the last part out quickly and started crying harder.

Katniss sighed and put a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, Daisy. You should talk all you want. You can be any way you want to be. You know, when I was a kid, people used to say I was unfriendly and a loner. I guess I was, but I turned out okay.”

Daisy sniffled and nodded her head.

“Sometimes boys are not very smart, Daisy,” Katniss spoke softly. “They don’t know how to act, especially around girls, and sometimes they say and do the worst possible things. But I want you to know that it’s not okay.” Daisy looked up then, bright, moist blue eyes meeting stern silver ones. “It’s never okay for a boy, or anyone, to treat you that way, and I’m going to talk to him about it.”

Yes, Katniss would definitely deal with Brandan. There were few things she hated worse than a boy (or man) having disrespect for a girl (or woman).

“And as for your hair, you have beautiful hair. I wish I had hair like yours. Mine is so plain.”

Daisy shook her head. “No, no, Miss Everdeen! Yours is so much prettier than mine!” She tentatively reached out to touch the end of her braid that she’d been so curious about all day.

Katniss smiled at the girl’s sweetness.

“Daddy tries to do my hair,” she said as she fingered Katniss’s braid, “but he says he’s not good at it.”

“He did a fine job,” Katniss remarked. She could tell the man had tried. He’d just missed a few pieces and more had naturally come loose during the day and gotten knotted. It happened. Daisy had a thick head of waves, and that was always tough to manage. She had a similar problem with the thickness of hers, which was why she wore it in a braid most days.

“Brandan is just an idiot.” Daisy giggled at her remark. Okay, so Katniss would never call a child an idiot to his face, even if he was acting the part. Anyway, she blamed his upbringing. “His daddy’s an idiot, too. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Daisy shook her head. “I won’t, Miss Everdeen.”

Katniss held up her pinky. Daisy smiled and hooked hers around her teacher’s.

“My daddy’s not an idiot, you know. He’s a really nice grownup boy.”

Katniss smiled. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Daisy Mellark adored her father and that they were very close. It must bring her pride and comfort to speak of him. And Katniss could relate, for she’d always been closer with her father than her mother. “I’m glad your daddy’s not an idiot.”

They exchanged another smile.

“Now then, will you promise me something else?”

“Anything, Miss Everdeen.”

“Promise me that if Brandan or anyone else ever gives you problems you’ll come and tell me right away. Don’t be afraid to, okay? You won’t be a baby and you won’t be a tattletale.”

“Yes, Miss Everdeen. I promise.” They hooked pinkies again. Then Katniss went around behind Daisy and pulled back the ropes of the swing. And she gave her a little push.

After pushing Daisy on the swing for several rounds, she stopped her. She’d gotten an idea. She went to crouch in front of her once more. “Daisy, about your hair.”

“Yes, Miss Everdeen?” Daisy fidgeted with a blonde curl.

“As I said before, your hair is beautiful, but I wonder if I can try something to keep it from getting in your face.”

“Okay.” Daisy nodded.

***  
An hour later, the children were in art class, so Katniss took the opportunity to stop by Principal Abernathy’s office. She bypassed Miss Trinket with only a wave and despite her protests, knocked on his door. He didn’t answer, so she just went in. She found him leaning back in his chair with his feet up on his desk. He was asleep and snoring loudly.

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Drinking at school again? Damn you, Haymitch,” she said aloud. Then she called his name. He didn’t budge, so she raised her voice an octave. “Haymitch!”

With a snort, he shifted. He stopped snoring for a moment, and Katniss thought he was going to wake, but he just started up again, louder and throatier. She groaned. Not being a patient person, she stormed over and shoved his feet off his desk.

“Heyyy!” he shouted. Katniss stepped back just in time for him to start swinging his arms wildly around. “What are you doing?!”

When he saw who’d disturbed him, he narrowed his eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Haymitch,” she repeated. Principal Abernathy didn’t care that she called him by his first name. And he shouldn’t, considering he always calls her…

“Sweetheart.” He slumped across his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She began to speak, but he cut her off with a finger. “No, wait, let me guess.” He leaned back in his chair again, interlocking his fingers behind his head. “You’re here to twist my arm about something else.”

Katniss smirked.

“If you are, that’s okay because…” He dug into his drawer and took out the clear bottle of white liquor she’d bribed him with a few days ago. It was almost ¾ gone already. He held out the bottle, sloshing it around. “I’m running a little low.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, thought Katniss. But really, she wasn’t surprised.

“I don’t have any more with me,” she told him. You lousy drunk. He was a decent principal, for the most part, but she didn’t like that he drank at school. She’d encouraged him to wait until the kids were gone to imbibe, but obviously, he hadn’t listened. The man had had a hard life, sure, but hadn’t they all? It was no excuse. “I can bring more next week,” she said. “But if you don’t stop drinking at school, I swear I’ll cut you off. I’ll even follow you around to make sure you don’t get more, too.”

He glared at her. “A joy as always. Soo,” he drawled, “whaddya want?”

“I want to take my class on a nature hike.”

Haymitch raised a bushy brow. “You want to take a bunch of seven-year-olds traipsing through the wilderness?”

“Yeah. It’ll be educational. I want to teach them about plants and animals in their natural habitat.” And also about surviving in the wild if they’re ever lost, though that’s unlikely to happen.

She expected him to say no or hold out until she had the liquor, but instead, he shrugged. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, what do I care?”

Katniss knew she shouldn’t ask, but curiosity got the better of her. “So, what gives? You always say no to my requests, initially.”

“Yeah, keyword, initially. Then you annoy the hell out of me until I say yes, so I figured I’d save myself some grief and just say yes right off the bat.”

Katniss grinned. “Thank you, Haymitch. You won’t regret it.”

“I better not. Oh,” he stopped her before she left, “Make sure and get parental permission, sweetheart. If one of the kids gets eaten by a bear, I don’t want to be held liable.”

Katniss gave a succinct nod. “I will.”

“And see if you can get a few volunteers to go along, maybe some parents,” he called as she headed out the door.


	3. First Day Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the rights to the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins’ characters. 
> 
> I hope all the flashbacks aren't too confusing. I know it's a lot of jumps, but I finally figured out how to edit within A03 (my formatting kept getting lost, and I didn't know how to fix it)! So, anyway, the past (when Peeta and Finnick were teenagers) is in italics. Hopefully, it's less confusing now. Also, I use italics for thoughts sometimes, if it's not dialogue tagged, but I think that's self-explanatory. And significant time jumps or character perspective changes are offset with asterisks. 
> 
> Warning: A few bits of strong language in this, because, well, I was trying to ‘talk’ like 30-something guys might.

_**Peeta** _

Peeta and his crew had worked well past normal lunchtime at the bakery site, and some were beginning to complain about being hungry and tired‒and when Peeta said some, he meant Finnick. The combination of knowing they’d put in a decent morning’s/partial afternoon’s work and Finnick’s infantile complaining convinced Peeta to give it about ten more minutes before calling it for lunch. That is, if his older brother, who seemed to think he was in charge rather than this being a team effort, didn’t do it first.

That aside, Peeta was proud of what they’d accomplished so far. And even though it was costing him a fortune–but wasn’t quite a money pit‒and the project seemed everlasting, he was convinced that buying this rundown old bakery in the Seam of District 12 had been a good idea.

The place had fallen into such disrepair that no one in town wanted to shoulder the cost or put forth the effort to get it up and running again, and it wasn’t like there was an outpouring of qualified bakers in District 12. In stepped Peeta Mellark. After all, it was about time the Seam had a bakery again. Apparently, the man who’d owned the bakery before had died suddenly, leaving it to no one, and thus, the property sat for years. So naturally, the D12 realtor had been all too thrilled to finally unload the forsaken piece of property, allowing Peeta to purchase it for practically nothing. He almost felt guilty paying so little, considering how large it was and the great potential it had, but then again, he’d already sunk a big chunk of change into it.

Peeta had some money. He’d inherited a considerable sum, and though he was hesitant to use it at first, he believed it should be put toward a good cause‒the bakery wasn’t meant to be about monetary gain or even just for his and Daisy’s livelihood; he also believed it could be a staple of District 12, and he was quite interested in starting some programs to feed the hungry with the use of any leftover products. The inherited money and what was in his savings had been plenty to buy the bakery; however, paying a full-time construction crew for months would have been exorbitant, so as opposed to hemorrhaging money, he’d decided to do the work of repairing the bakery himself, with a little help, of course. And so, he’d hired a few guys and managed to smooth-talk his older brother (and partner), Graham, as well as a few friends into helping him out for a small amount of cash, or in Finnick’s case, food.

The bakery was a huge undertaking, and Peeta had been putting his blood, sweat, and tears into it, well, at least his sweat. But having a big project seemed exactly what he needed to finally get him out of his funk as some of his friends referred to it. And he had to agree with them; it was about time. Thus, when he saw the opportunity to purchase the bakery, he had to snatch it right up. But it wasn’t just a whim; he’d thought about it a lot.

Owning a bakery was a natural choice for Peeta; he and his brothers had grown up in a bakery. They weren’t exactly all fond memories, due to a less than warm and fuzzy mother (putting it mildly), but Peeta enjoyed the work, and he was good at it, great, even, if modesty was put aside. Baking seemed to be in Peeta’s veins‒his father was a baker and his father before him, and so Peeta imagined he would always be one, too, heart and soul. Graham, the eldest Mellark son, didn’t quite cherish the family legacy the way Peeta (the youngest) did, but he was also very good, and willing. As for their middle brother, Rye, he had his own life and really wanted nothing to do with the business; although, he had offered to help out on holidays and during busy times.

Work on the bakery was mostly manual labor right now, for there weren’t many partial-owner tasks Peeta could do at this stage that he hadn’t already taken care of. He’d already spoken with some vendors about supplies and equipment and had arranged for delivery of those. As far as employees were concerned, he would be holding some interviews next week. It’d be his brother and him doing most of the baking, but they were going to need a little help.

At the thought, Peeta felt his phone vibrating in his back pocket, so he excused himself to go into the small makeshift office to take it. There were a lot of calls coming in regarding the business, mainly logistical, from vendors as well as the occasional customer calling to find out when the place would open. Peeta fielded all of these calls because he was the one, to quote Graham, who was “good at talking to people.”

And Peeta was glad to be keeping busy. Today, especially. It helped distract him from worrying too much about Daisy, somewhat. He was still frequently thinking of her, wondering things like: How was her day going? Did she like her lunch, and did she eat all of it? Was she being shy or making friends? And did she like her new teacher? These thoughts and more had been rolling around in his head all morning. But that’s what being a parent was all about, wasn’t it? Constantly thinking of and worrying about your child, always wanting what’s best for them, and yes, wanting more for them than you had yourself.

At this point, Peeta could probably write a manual on single parenting–not that it would be a bestseller. He had only his feeble attempts to do right by his daughter to go on, after all. The Adventures in Single Dadhood, it’d been a pleasant journey overall, though not entirely smooth-sailing. But he wouldn’t trade the bond he’d formed with his daughter for anything.

Peeta’s friends and family had been saying for years now that he needed to find a ‘new mother’ for Daisy, but it wasn’t so easy. As a dad, he couldn’t really date like a typical single man, and he was hesitant to bring a strange woman into Daisy’s life. What if she got attached and it didn’t work out? His friends sometimes acted as if he should just pick up the first woman to come along or even have someone shipped over from another country or perhaps purchase her online. All jokes aside, he knew they were just trying to be helpful. They cared for Daisy, too, and they wanted to see both of them happy. They must think they’re doing right by pushing him. But Daisy’s needs came first with Peeta, always, and he wasn’t convinced that his rushing into marriage was the best solution. And truth be told, he wanted to fall in love again. He wanted something real.

Fortunately, the two of them were far from alone. Daisy had her Uncles Graham and Rye, and then there was Finnick, who was as good as an uncle. Basically, she was surrounded by wacky but very caring men, and then there was Graham’s wife and Peeta’s childhood friend Delly, who came around once in a while. But, be they male or female, every person who’d come into Daisy’s life couldn’t help but fall in love with her. Maybe Peeta was biased, but Daisy just had a brightness about her, an inner beauty that couldn’t be ignored

Peeta finished with the call and ordered some sandwiches for the group. He exited his office and returned to the worksite, only to find everyone standing around Graham, who was wiping the sweat from his brow with a rag. Peeta’s brother looked a lot like him; although there were a few physical differences between them. Graham was slightly taller and his hair was a bit darker; he was just as broad-shouldered as Peeta but leaner through the trunk, and his eyes were a blue-green rather than a bright blue.

“Hey, Peeta!” Graham called out. “I figured it was time to call it for lunch.”

Peeta shook his head. As expected, the moment he was out of sight, Graham had taken over. Being older, he’d been trying to usurp Peeta’s authority all day. It was almost as if they were brother princes, Peeta being next in line for the throne, and Graham was angry about that and not above poisoning him. Of course, his older brother would never poison him, though he might try and subtly undermine him. Not to say Graham was a bad guy or didn’t care for him; it was just that age-old battle between oldest and youngest, Peeta supposed.

“Way ahead of you, Graham! I already ordered some sandwiches!” In retrospect, he should’ve ordered them sooner, but he’d gotten caught up in his work. Fortunately, this place was quick. “They’ll be here in ten to fifteen minutes,” he called out.

“Good thinking, little bro!” Well, Graham was surprisingly upbeat today. Peeta’d half-expected him to gripe about the delay. He must’ve had a good night with the wife last night. “Okay, guys, might as well take a load off until the food gets here.”

Peeta simply let Graham take the reins and headed over to where Finnick had dropped onto one of the benches and sprawled out. Finnick made a point to release a sharp puff of air as Peeta took a seat beside him. “Man, this is harder work than I thought. Do you ever owe me!”

Peeta smirked. “This coming from the all-star male swimmer of our high school.”

“See, that’s the thing. I’m better in water. I wasn’t made for this heat.”

It was unseasonably warm for early fall.

“I’ve been working my ass off here.” Finnick swiped his arm across his forehead for effect. “And considering I’m volunteering, that dinner you buy me better be a doozy!”

Peeta chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“So, when do I get it?” he asked hopefully.

Seriously, Finnick had a one-track mind. Okay, maybe two-track...

Peeta smirked at him. “Soon,” he said, knowing the lack of a definite answer would drive Finnick crazy. “But I’m surprised a…,” he searched for the right word. ‘Womanizer’ was probably most accurate, though maybe a tad insulting, so he opted for, “‘coveted man’, such as yourself is so concerned about his next meal. Don’t you have plenty of dates lined up without having to go out with me?”

“It’s not the company I’m interested in, Peet. Sure, I have plenty of companions,” he winked, “but I have to pay for them. I am a gentleman, after all.”

“So, it’s all for the free food.”

“Yep.”

“Don’t I feel special?” Peeta deadpanned.

Finnick chuckled. “You are, man.” He clapped him on the back. “Just in a different way.”

“Mhm.”

“What about that thing I did for you?” Finnick nudged him. “Remember that? That was called saving your life.”

Peeta rolled his eyes.

“Think I would have done that if you didn’t mean something to me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say you saved my‒” But Peeta cut himself off, because what was the use? It’d probably be one of those stories Finnick would tell on his deathbed while regaling his loved ones with tales of his incredible life. And although Finnick’s statement was a tad dramatic, it wasn’t really inaccurate.

Peeta thought back to the incident; it happened when he was 16 and Finnick was 18…

***  
 _That summer was the hottest in years, and Peeta and Finnick had been spending a lot of time at the community pool. Okay, sure, a lot of it had to do with a couple of cute girls who frequented the pool and liked to lie out sunbathing, but taking a dip was a good way to cool off._

_Peeta wasn’t exactly the best with girls, although he wasn’t bad, either. Finnick even made him his ‘wingman’ for picking up older ones. Basically, he wanted Peeta to strike up a conversation with the girls, say something witty and charming like he was so good at, and then Finnick would swoop in and take it from there._

_According to Finnick, Peeta always said the right thing and had that puppy look going for him. “Maybe the girls will want to pet you,” he’d told him with a lewd grin and a wink. Peeta had only shaken his head at the dirty joke. Although…_

_“Come on, Peet,” Finnick had further encouraged. “You’re attractive enough. Those baby blues definitely help. Girls love that.”_

_But Peeta still hadn’t been convinced, and he’d protested that the older girls would just walk off on him, maybe even laugh at him. Finnick had simply patted him on the back and told him to trust him._

_And Finnick was right. The older girls paid more attention to Peeta than he thought they would, probably because they assumed he was their age‒because he hung out with Finnick all the time. Also, he looked older. His face still had some baby fat, but he was beginning to come into his own in the muscle arena, and he could grow some facial hair._

_It wasn’t Peeta’s words or his looks that got the attention of the girls that summer, though..._

_On a typical day, Peeta and Finnick were hanging out at the pool. Now, Peeta knew how to swim in a pinch, but he’d never really formally learned, whereas Finnick had grown up around the water. He’d moved from a district by the ocean, where 1 in 3 hobbies was related to being on open waters, so, naturally, Finnick had been swimming like a fish since he was a toddler. And he liked to show off at the pool._

_Peeta, on the other hand, didn’t normally go past the water level he could stand up in and spent most of his time in the shallower end playing with the little kids, hefting them onto his broad shoulders and tossing them around like they weighed nothing‒and they did to a guy who was used to lugging around 100-pound sacks of flour. The kids loved him. Occasionally, girls Peeta’s age would ask to get up on his shoulders, too, for games of chicken and such, since he was one of the sturdiest there. It always made Peeta blush when that happened, and he just did his best to place his hands in an appropriate spot while keeping the girls balanced. His team almost always won._

_But the day of the incident, Peeta was coaxed out of the shallow end and onto the high dive. He talked himself up as he shakily ascended the wobbly ladder, reminding himself that it should be a snap to surface–the water was only 6 or 7 feet over his head, after all. And even though it was his first time, he’d seen Finnick do it tons of times. He’d just watched the guy do a freaking jackknife the other day. Of course, he wasn’t going to try something so advanced his first try._

_When Peeta got to the top, he slowly inched out onto the damp board, praying the thing held his weight. He had some extra muscle mass, yes, but it wasn’t like he was overweight, so it should. Still, the board seemed to quiver beneath him. He managed to make it to the edge. The sun beat down on his body, droplets of water bubbling up on his pale skin as it dried, and carefully balancing, he looked out. A handful of people were watching him; some of the kids and girls were waving, and a few girls even whistled or cheered him on, including the girl he sort of had a crush on. She even said his name. “Come on, Peeta, you can do it!” she called out with both dainty hands placed alongside her pretty mouth._

_Well, he couldn’t back out now. It would be embarrassing, and he couldn’t let her down. He shot Finnick a glance. His best friend was looking up at him, his face a mix of concern and encouragement. Peeta nodded resolutely to Finnick, then turned back to the task at hand. All he had to do was jump. Just jump. It’d be over in a flash. Determined, he squeezed his fists at his sides, bent his knees, and dove off._

_He felt a rush of cool air as he sprang from the board, and for a moment, it was pleasant, freeing. He felt weightless as if he was flying, like a bird…_

_But then, he hit the water. And it hurt, badly._

_What must have happened was this: He failed to put his arms out in front of him or tuck his chin, and he landed wrong, smack on his belly, so hard that it knocked the wind out of him. On top of that, he failed to exhale and suck in a breath and hold it, so his mouth had been partially opened when he hit the pool, the cavity filling instantly with warm, chemically-enhanced pool water._

_Or, so he surmised._

_When Peeta started to come to from a black haze and the whistling of (what sounded like) wind and birds in his ears, he could feel pressure on his chest. Not a solid pressure, but a pumping up and down. He faintly made out the sound of a voice calling his name, but it was fuzzy over the ringing in his ears. He must have blacked out and nearly drowned. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious. He felt someone’s head against his chest, over his heart, and tufts of hair tickling his bare skin, but he couldn’t quite seem to open his eyes or move yet._

_“Peet, Peet, man, please wake up!” This time, he made out Finnick’s voice distinctly, and then, he felt his nose being pinched and a mouth covering his. Finnick must be trying to revive him. He felt the sensation of his mouth filling up with air and simultaneously something liquid rising, and he immediately jerked his head away._

_“Peeta!” Finnick exclaimed._

_Peeta rolled over onto his side and coughed up some water and other substances in the process._

_“Peeta, you okay?!” Finnick began clapping him lightly between his shoulders. “Speak to me, man.”_

_After getting all the water up, Peeta rolled onto his back and lay there like a beached whale. Slowly, he opened his eyes to be met with a pair of concerned-looking sea-green ones staring down at him._

_“Peet, you okay?” Finnick asked, leaning over him._

_“Yeah,” Peeta mumbled weakly, blinking moisture from his lashes. “But can you do something for me?” Finnick told him to name it. “Keep your lips off me from now on.”_

_This made Finnick chuckle and earned some giggles from the crowd, so Peeta kept with it. “And maybe fetch me some mouthwash.”_

_Finnick barked out a laugh. “I see the lack of oxygen to your brain didn’t damage your wit,” he said, and he went down, covering Peeta’s body with his longer one in an awkward hug/smothering. Peeta couldn’t see a thing, for Finnick’s body was blocking him, but he heard the crowd clap and a distinct girly squeal, exclaiming, “How sweet!”_

_After Finnick finished hugging him, he helped him up. “Oh man, you scared me to death!” He tugged him into another brief bear hug then pulled back to grip his shoulders. “What were you thinking?”_

_‘Am I the only teenage guy here?’ mused Peeta. ‘You know exactly what I was thinking…’_

_At that, Peeta scanned around for his crush. He found her easily among the crowd, front and center. His cheeks warmed as he met her gaze, and she gave him a relieved smile and clasped her hands over her heart. Okay, so maybe this embarrassing near-death experience could be of benefit to him after all..._

_Of course, Finnick just had to be the ultimate cockblocker. “Seriously, man, tell me what you were thinking!” Peeta tried to grit out a plea to discuss it later, but Finnick was either oblivious or just relentless and continued to rail on him. “You know you’re not a strong swimmer! And you completely fucked up the landing!” He finally let go of his shoulders and wagged a finger at him. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me.”_

_“Yes, Mom.”_

_They both laughed, and Peeta’s humor seemed to have charmed his crush and the other girls, at least for the moment._

***  
“I remember that,” Graham said, breaking Peeta’s reverie.

“You do?” Peeta asked.

“Sure. I wasn’t there, but it was all anyone was talking about for weeks.”

Peeta recalled. Finnick got a lot of attention after that, but Peeta wasn’t raw about it. How could he be when Finnick was his friend and after what he’d done for him?

“You did save me, Finn,” Peeta acknowledged. “I hope I properly thanked you back then.”

“Yeah, buddy, you did.” Then Finnick quickly switched gears. “Now, about that dinner...”

Peeta shook his head. He had thanked Finnick then. And he had acted bravely and in the name of friendship and basic human decency, but apparently, that equated to a life debt that Finnick would never let him forget.

Peeta smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I promise you’ll get your dinner. Wherever you want, whatever you want.” Finnick pumped his arm as though he’d just won the lottery, and Peeta smiled.

And Peeta thought back on how he got to know this lovable idiot. It was a complete fluke…

_***_

_Peeta was a freshman and Finnick was a junior, which meant that they probably would have never encountered each other, aside from a quick passing in the hall, except for the fact that they were both athletes. Peeta was on the wrestling team, the only freshman who actually got to participate on the varsity team, and Finnick was a swimmer. Peeta’d been leaving the locker room one day when he passed Finnick heading to the pool. He was rubbing his shoulder, and then, he attempted a freestyle stroke, but as he got partway through the motion, he winced and pulled out of it._

_“You’re not going to practice, are you?” Peeta spoke up._

_Finnick turned toward the sound of his voice and squinted over. “Who are you?”_

_“Peeta. Peeta Mellark.”_

_“Well, Peeta Mellark, yes, I am, actually. Why?”_

_“You’re not gonna wanna do that,” Peeta said._

_“Oh? And why’s that?” Finnick smirked, probably in disbelief over a lowly freshman talking to him, he, the water god of the school, yet curious enough to allow it._

_“Well,” Peeta shoved his hands into his pockets, “I saw you rubbing your shoulder and the way it hinged up when you tried that freestyle stroke. You probably have Swimmer’s Shoulder, maybe even a torn rotator cuff. You don’t want to keep swimming if you’ve torn tissue or are in danger of doing so.”_

_“What do you know about it? You’re not a swimmer.”_

_“No, but I am an athlete, and I have some friends who are swimmers, so I know a little about it. You should get it checked out, can’t hurt.”_

***  
As if on the same wavelength, Finnick chimed in, “Well, you helped me once.”

Peeta shrugged. Encouraging someone to get his shoulder checked out wasn’t quite on par with saving a person’s life, but this back and forth of who owed who could go on forever.

“Honestly, I thought you were full of shit at first, Peet,” Finnick continued. And what guy his age back then wouldn’t? Every teenage guy thinks he’s invincible, especially immortalized athletes. “I thought I was just a little sore but turned out you were right about my shoulder.”

Finnick recalled scoffing and walking haughtily away from the freshman, but what Peeta said had said stuck with him. He recalled thinking if Peeta was wrong, no harm, no foul, but if he was right...well, Finnick hadn't wanted to end up one of those washed-up athletes so early in the game, so he'd told his coach, and his coach had sent him to the nurse, who referred him to a sports medicine doctor. Turns out he had been very close to severely damaging his rotator cuff.

He'd been given a treatment plan, including exercises and a combination of ice and heat therapy, and most importantly, he'd been told to stop swimming for three weeks. Finnick had despised the order, hated missing multiple practices and a handful of meets, but he'd complied. He'd wanted so badly to blame someone for it; he'd wanted to hate Peeta Mellark‒for bringing it up. And he'd fully intended to. But, when the fog of his anger cleared back then, he'd realized something, that Peeta Mellark had actually saved him. While Peeta had indirectly cost him several weeks of swimming, he’d saved him from losing the rest of his year, quite possibly even more...

Finnick remembered thinking, _Damn, I owe Peeta Mellark_.

“I’m glad it was alright,” Peeta interjected. “I remember when you returned to swimming. You came up to me.”

“Yeah, I remember. It was my second day back…”

* * *

_**Finnick** _

_That day, Finnick happened to catch sight of Peeta in his singlet, heading to wrestling practice. He approached him from behind and clamped a hand down on his shoulder. Peeta released a small gasp and turned._

_“Oh, hey Finnick. How’s the shoulder?” Peeta Mellark asked._

_“Much better.”_

_“Good. I’m glad.” There was an awkward pause while Finnick stared down his savior. “Well, I gotta be going…” Peeta motioned with his thumb toward the gym._

_“I-wanted-to-thank-you,” Finnick blurted out all at once._

_“Oh. Uh, you’re welcome. Was no big deal.”_

_'Damn this guy. So modest,' thought Finnick._

_“It was,” Finnick argued. “And...well, since one good turn deserves another...let’s be friends?”_

_“What?”_

_“I said ‘let’s be friends.’”_

_This time, Peeta smirked. “And you think that’s the equivalent of me saving your shoulder and thus your swimming career?_

_Finnick was ready to take back the modest thing. Maybe this guy was really an arrogant prick. He couldn’t tell yet. He had balls talking back to him, though, and he had helped him. Maybe the kid was alright…_

_“I’m one of the most popular guys in school,” Finnick retorted. “Not that you’re not, kid. You’re a talented athlete, and I’ve seen the way girls look at you, but still, with me, you could be legendary at this school.”_

_“I don’t care about being legendary.”_

_Finnick tightened his jaw. “Yeah, but it couldn’t hurt, right? I know a lot of people, and the coaches love me. Could open doors for you.” Was this Peeta Mellark really making him talk him into being friends with him? Unbelievable!_

_Peeta had the gall to simply shrug and say “Okay,” and Finnick wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Deciding to let it go, Finnick reached out and clasped hands with Peeta. And from then on, they were practically inseparable._

* * *

_**Peeta** _

“I was such a dick back then,” Finnick laughed, “thinking the best way to repay you was offering my coveted friendship.”

Peeta chuckled, too. “You were kind of a dick, but I’m glad we became friends, anyway.” They man-hugged it out while Graham looked on with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You know…,” the elder Mellark began rubbing his burgeoning dark flaxen whiskers‒which barely took a day of not shaving to start growing like a field of wheat, “after that little display, there were some...rumors going around about you two...”

“Rumors?” Peeta asked. Then it hit him. He knew exactly what rumors Graham was referring to…

***  
 _After Finnick saved his life, Peeta heard the story of the heroic deed more times than he could count, every account being practically the same, only slightly altered. Some were definitely more exaggerated than others, but the consensus was that Finnick had done nearly two full rounds of CPR on him, and he’d been soo worried. How frightened and riveted everyone else had been from the sounds of it. One person even proclaimed it was like watching a movie. Good to know having his life on the line was so entertaining…_

_Peeta didn’t actually know how close he'd come to death, or would have, if not for Finnick. He didn’t know if he would have regained consciousness in time to surface on his own and be fine, but the fact of the matter was Finnick had saved him. He’d gotten to him before that ‘slow-ass lifeguard’ could even jump in, according to one bystander‒Finnick should have been the lifeguard there._

_After that, Finnick was the pool hero, and consequently, he had all the girls between the ages of 13 and 19 going nuts over him‒even more so than before. Peeta had been a little embarrassed by the incident, but he was thankful and happy for his friend, who was loving being in the spotlight. And there was no way he was gonna do anything to take that away from him._

_Finnick’s fame wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for Peeta, considering he hung out with him. Or, so he thought…_

_Peeta recalled going with Finnick to meet up with those girls from the pool about a week after the rescue…_

_The girl Peeta liked had actually asked him out a few days after the rescue, and even though he was trying not to analyze it and just be happy, it seemed a little suspicious. It wasn’t so much the fact that she wanted to double-date with her friend and Finnick‒that was normal at their age‒but there were other little things…_

_The day of the date, Peeta and Finnick were in Finnick’s car. Finnick turned to Peeta and commented, “You know, those girls didn’t want much to do with us before I saved your life.”_

_Peeta chewed on his lip. He’d thought his crush was interested from the way she looked at him and smiled at him; they’d been exchanging shy, secret smiles for weeks, actually. As for Finnick, he hadn’t noticed whether the girl he was going out with had liked him before, but girls always liked Finnick, so Peeta wasn’t sure why the remark._

_“They thought it was cute,” Finnick smirked._

_‘Cute?’ What was he getting at?_

_Peeta shrugged, then paused to consider. It was a little suspect that they’d been kind of lumped together a lot in conversations since then, almost like an...item...and people couldn’t stop bringing up how worried Finnick had been and how relieved when he came to...and of course, there was the hug after…_

_“A little too cute,” Peeta remarked. “I think…” He swallowed. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this… “I think some people might think there’s...something more...between us.”_

_“So?” Finnick said automatically._

_“What?” Peeta brow furrowed, and his jaw went slack for a moment._

_“Hey, man, relax. I’m not saying I’m gay or bi or that I want you.” Peeta rolled his eyes. “What I’m saying is...maybe this could work in our favor.”_

_“I don’t see how.”_

_“Well, some girls really get into that...that whatever you wanna call it, bromance or boy love or guy-on-guy action.” He got a devious little smirk on his lips and nudged Peeta with his shoulder. “Maybe we should play up that angle...”_

_Peeta’s eyes widened. “Look, whatever you’re thinking, forget it. I like you, Finnick; you’re my friend, practically a brother to me, or at least an annoying cousin, but I just don’t think of you that way.”_

_Finnick winked at him. “So pretend.”_

_Peeta groaned. “I’m not gonna pretend to be your lover just to get you laid. And we both know that’s the way it’s gonna go because I’m definitely not going to get involved in any… ‘group activities’ with you, sorry to disappoint. If anything happens with Cathy, I want it to be just me and her.”_

_“Spoilsport.” Finnick chuckled and shot Peeta a quick slug to the arm. “But yeah, that’s cool. I’d actually rather you not be around, either, if things progress with Gillian.”_

***  
“Did people really think we were gay, Graham?” Peeta asked his brother in earnest.

“Some did.”

Peeta sighed.

“Well, you two were really close. I admit, even I thought you might be for a while.” Peeta rolled his eyes, and Graham came over and slapped him on the back. “That is until you turned into a hopeless puppy over that one girl...what was her name?”

“Cathy,” Peeta answered, a little too readily. Of course, he knew who Graham meant, the girl he was crushing on the first few weeks of summer at the pool. But that’s how little what he had with Cathy amounted to‒his brother couldn’t even remember her name. Not like Graham paid so much attention to him, but it wasn’t like he’d had many girlfriends, either.

Things didn’t last long with Cathy, but Peeta couldn’t honestly say he'd been torn up about that. Sure, she was sweet and pretty, but that was it. And it just wasn’t...it. Even so, Peeta probably would have continued to date her, to give it a fair chance, but turned out, she didn’t think he was so special, either. They went out a few times, always on double-dates with Finnick and her friend, at Cathy’s behest, which Peeta wouldn’t have minded if both girls hadn't ignored him entirely. Both Cathy and Gillian had seemed solely focused on Finnick, and they spent the dates chatting with him (or each other), giggling, and gazing at Finnick like he was some kind of sea-god action figure. Oh yeah, and they’d touch him any chance they got.

Well, needless to say, it didn’t work out. But she wasn’t the one Peeta was still nostalgic for to this day, not by a longshot. No, there was only one girl who really meant anything to Peeta that summer, well, one and the dream of another…

“Yeah, her,” Graham said, breaking Peeta’s reverie. “I remember her a little. She was cute, but not my type. I always liked blondes.” And of course, Graham’s wife was blonde. “You always went for those dark-complected brunettes, didn’t you, Peet?”

Come to think of it, he did. But that didn’t really start with Cathy, or maybe it did, but she’d been more of an anomaly, just another fluke that summer. The whole summer seemed like one fluke after another, a big long chain of events culminating in one life-altering moment. Or, maybe it was kismet. Peeta supposed it all depended on one’s point of view. But of one thing he was certain‒it all centered around a mysterious girl with a braid…

And what was so special about that summer? Well, that was the summer Peeta discovered love...

The food arrived, and Peeta went to pay for it and began passing it out. Finnick had just gotten a call, which he’d seemed torn about taking, considering the food was there. But ultimately, he did take it, answering with a “Hey, baby.” Peeta shook his head at Finnick’s back as he watched him walk away. He certainly did play the part, didn’t he?

Peeta sat down at the rickety old picnic table outside the bakery site. He sat across from Graham. He’d expected Graham to have grown bored of it long ago, but much to Peeta's chagrin, the ribbing continued into their lunch. He supposed Graham never could get enough of taunting him. It was a brother thing…

“Didn’t last long with that Cathy girl, did it?” Graham pressed.

“No,” Peeta readily replied. Then he took a swig of his bottled tea.

“What happened?” Graham smothered his pastrami sandwich in two packets of mayo. “How’d you fuck it up?”

“Why do you assume it was my fault?”

Graham reached for a bag of chips. “Fine, then what did happen?” He tugged the chip bag open with a pop, sprinkled some onto his sandwich then stuck a few in his mouth.

‘What happened’ was she lost interest quickly, plain and simple, thought Peeta, reaching for a bag, himself.

“Did you not do what I told you?” Graham persisted while crunching away, crumbs spilling from his mouth into his beard. “Did I not teach you well enough at a young age?”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “If anything, you taught me what not to do with girls, Graham.” He popped a couple of chips into his mouth and chewed slowly.

Graham scoffed. “That’s gratitude for ya.”

Peeta shook his head amusedly. “Anyway, it wasn’t anything like that. We-we...just weren’t right for each other.” And Peeta truly believed that. Cathy hadn’t been the person for him; he’d figured that out pretty quickly. And if things had continued with Cathy, he might not have met her…

“Well, I will say, I was proud of how quickly you bounced back. You didn’t mope around for too long.”

“Yeah…” There was a lot of truth in that. Sure, he’d been upset when Cathy dumped him, but he managed to get over her quickly. And that was probably because another came along shortly after, one she paled in comparison to…

“Hey, whatever happened to your imaginary,” Graham used air quotes, “girlfriend, Peeta?”

Holy hell, Graham was in his head now?! He’d just been thinking of her… Although, he should’ve known she’d come up while talking about that summer.

“She wasn’t imaginary, Graham; I saw her!” Peeta protested. He knew it was a mistake mentioning her back then…

“Oh yeah? Well, I never did.” Graham smirked as he tore off a large chunk of bread, meat, and cheese with his teeth. “Who was she, then?” he mumbled, barely comprehensible.

Peeta’s words came out as a heavy sigh. “I don’t know.” Sadly, to this day, he still didn’t even know the girl’s name. Ohh, it was all coming back to him now...the frustration, the dejection, the complete and utter adoration… And he thought he was over it…

“She just...passed by me on the street. All I remember is she had olive skin and dark hair that she wore in a braid.” Peeta tugged at a curl at the nape of his neck. Although he made it sound casual, truth be told, he remembered every single detail of this girl, right down to those alluring silver eyes. He’d gotten a glimpse of them when she turned and their eyes briefly met. If he’d been close enough, rather than all the way across the street, he would have counted and memorized every freckle and mole. God, he sounded like he was in some damn 19th-century romance novel.

Graham set down his sandwich. “And you didn’t even talk to her?” He gesticulated in disbelief.

Poking out his lip slightly, Peeta shook his head. Talk to her? Hell, he couldn’t even speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stand there staring at her perfection…

Peeta sighed longingly. Graham raised a brow.

“I just couldn’t, Graham. She would’ve thought I was psychotic if I chased her down the street.” And probably already did from the way he was staring… “And besides, she was...too beautiful…” He muttered the last part under his breath. Suddenly, he was that shy, sixteen-year-old boy again.

Peeta’s brother threw up his hands in defeat. “Well, I guess that explains your thing for brunettes.” He picked up his sandwich again and took another huge bite.

“I wouldn’t constitute it a thing.” However, that’s exactly what it was‒a thing. And Graham had finally pieced it together.

“You have to admit, you’ve always gone for the same type since,” Graham pointed out.

He had, hadn’t he? But so what? So, he had a type? A lot of people did. And he couldn’t help it. Once he’d seen the elusive mystery girl, he was hooked. He simply couldn’t get her out of his head. She became his teenage fantasy, the yardstick by which he compared all potential love interests. And from then on, even into adulthood, he realized, he gravitated toward women who looked even just a little bit like her. But no one ever really came close. Maybe he had imagined her, after all…

Peeta was seriously beginning to believe Graham was right and the girl with the braid never really existed. Maybe his lonely teenage mind had contrived her, after all. Maybe she was just a figment of an overactive, hormonal imagination. No, the girl with the braid couldn’t be real. She was far too perfect, too much his ideal that he never knew existed until that day. If he wanted to get religious about it, maybe she was an angel sent to watch over him and to push him toward the girl he was supposed to be with. In a way, she had. But why would a higher power care about his love life? And why had he been forsaken when he was finally so happy?

Regardless of what she was, be she fantasy or deity, real or not real, Peeta had never been able to shake the connection between the girl with the braid and the best things in his life. It all came back to her‒everything he had. His wife, his daughter...in a strange way, it was all because of her that he got everything, only to lose half of it later on…

***  
 _After seeing the girl with the braid, no other girl at the pool or elsewhere could compare. She had worked her magic on him, and he was forever a goner. Peeta couldn’t explain it, but something about her just called out to him like a siren song. He didn’t know if she could sing, but he could practically hear her voice in his head, and it was beautiful…_

_Peeta was completely over Cathy now, and he had absolutely no problem letting Finnick have all the attention from girls. He just couldn’t bother to care. He was lovesick, not an uncommon ailment for a guy his age, only it was over a girl he’d never even met. He felt really pathetic. But really, he was no worse than his friends who ogled girls in dirty magazines. They’d never meet those girls in a million years, either. The difference was, Peeta didn’t shrug it off, think ‘Oh well’ and move on to the next hot girl. He couldn’t. Rather, it was actually breaking his heart to think he’d never know her, never even see her again. What if she was his ‘destiny’ or something, his one shot at being happy? And he’d just let her walk away…_

_Peeta had never known love, not like this, anyway. Sure, he’d had crushes and strong feelings of desire, but what he felt for this girl was more need than want. He yearned; he ached for her, physically and mentally. There was this constant throbbing in his chest, and he’d get palpitations just thinking of her. He even had to look up the symptoms and convince himself a couple of times that he wasn’t having a heart attack. It just hurt so bad..._

_He mentioned seeing the girl to his brothers‒he didn’t know why, and he knew he was asking for it, but he just needed to talk about her. Of course, he didn’t tell Rye and Graham about his suffering. They’d only make fun of him. As for his parents, his mother wouldn’t care or understand, and his father would either give him an encouraging yet embarrassing pep talk or be concerned about him (he wasn’t sure which)._

_Honestly, the whole thing baffled Peeta. It wasn’t real love, was it? It couldn’t be real. Not when he’d never met her. It was just hormones, he told himself. That’s what the adults would say. But then, why did it hurt so damn bad? Why did it hurt infinitely more than being rejected by Cathy?_

_Weirdly, the girls at the pool seemed to sense he was brokenhearted or something, and they zeroed in on that, paying more attention to him than ever before. But it didn’t matter; he was fixated on the girl with the braid, thus completely indifferent to them. Finnick also tuned-in on his unhappiness and asked about it, but what was Peeta supposed to say...yeah, I saw this girl across the street, fell head-over-heels in love at first sight, and then she walked out of my life, and now I want to die. That pretty much summed it up, but it sounded way too stupid to say aloud. He did eventually tell Finnick about her, though he toned it down a lot._

_But life goes on. And so, Peeta spent the rest of his summer working at the bakery, daydreaming about that girl, and listening to music‒mostly angsty, sappy shit that he normally wouldn’t give a thought to but that suddenly spoke to him. He listened to it while drawing the same subject over and over…_

_He just kept wishing that one day the mystery girl with the braid would walk into his family’s bakery. He’d had many a fantasy about it. He would greet her with a smile and offer her a free sample of whatever she wanted. And what would she like? He often imagined the possibilities…_

_Was she a sweets girl? Would she want a cupcake with extra creamy frosting? Or, would she want something hearty and savory? Perhaps some bread. Would she want a slice or two from their freshest loaf? And what kind of bread would she like? One with raisins and nuts? Or, maybe she didn’t like raisins and would prefer a bun of some sort, one rolled in sugar or stuffed with cheese?_

_When one day a girl with dark hair did come through his door, Peeta’s heart leaped into his throat and he tripped over his own feet and nearly fell. He righted himself and went to greet her, barely containing his excitement. His face must be lighting up like Christmas; he was smiling so hard it hurt. But as he opened his mouth to welcome her, he saw that she wasn’t the girl he’d been fantasizing about all morning, and for weeks‒three weeks on the dot, to be exact._

_No, she was another girl, about his age, one with a similar look as the girl with the braid, at least from a distance. But seeing her up close, he didn’t know how he could have mistaken her. She really looked nothing like her. This girl’s skin was paler, and her eyes were green, not gray, still lovely but not the ones which had been haunting his dreams. Her hair was almost the same color, although it wasn’t in a braid‒not that the girl with the braid necessarily always wore it that way‒rather, she had it whisked back in a messy ponytail, which he might’ve found cute if he wasn’t so disappointed right now._

_Yeah, she was cute, he supposed, but altogether different..._

_Peeta’s face unconsciously fell as he greeted her, and she must have noticed. He would never forget that moment as long as he lived because this was the girl who would later become the mother of his child…_

_He later found out her name was Hyacinth, and he was fond of her right away. Fond, but not in love. Not like the girl with the braid…_

_Peeta managed to get over himself and warmly welcomed her, and he offered her a sample. Turned out she liked chocolate muffins. After that, Peeta apologized for his strange reaction, introduced himself, and they talked for a bit._

_Hyacinth was working a few doors down at the music shop, so she started coming into the bakery on her breaks, and she and Peeta became fast friends. It was always the same spiel. She would come in around 2 PM; they’d chat, and she’d usually order the same thing, although, sometimes he encouraged her to try others. She’d sit at a table reading, glancing up at him here and there, and they’d smile at one another. Everyone said they were perfect for each other._

_Peeta gathered pretty quickly that Hyacinth had a crush on him‒she wasn’t too obvious, but he wasn’t oblivious, either. As much as he liked her and wanted to reciprocate, though, he just kept holding out for the girl with the braid. And so, he kept Hyacinth at bay. He tried to be friendly but not flirtatious so as not to lead her on. Of course, it was all for naught. About a month after their meeting, Hyacinth confessed her feelings to him at the usual table they shared in the corner of the bakery. Peeta felt like complete shit turning her down. And he gave her the lamest excuse in the world, told her he was too busy for a girlfriend right now._

_Another image that would stick with him until the day he died was the sight of her with tears gathering behind her lowered lashes. She made an excuse after that and quickly left. He started to go after her but realized he was the only one minding the bakery. And so, he let yet another girl walk out of his life._

_Peeta expected Hyacinth would never come back, but she did, about two weeks later. And, wonderful person that she was, she apologized to him for pushing her feelings on him. To think he thought he couldn’t feel any lower. “No, no, it’s my fault,” he insisted, taking her hands in his. Hyacinth blushed prettily but pulled away. “I’m...I’m so sorry I hurt you, and I’ve really missed you. Can we...do you think we can...be friends? Please?”_

_Hyacinth wasn’t a petty person, so of course, she agreed. And from then on, they were thick as the good butter. Eventually, Peeta started to feel more for Hyacinth, or at least he thought he did. And somewhere along the way, the line got muddled between friendship and something more. In retrospect, it was her singing voice that finally did him in._

_One day, he heard her humming at her table while doodling on a napkin. A soft smile on his lips, Peeta listened intently while trying not to disturb her. Naturally, Hyacinth noticed him watching her‒she was always pretty aware of her surroundings‒and she got shy. He smiled widely and gave her a nod, so she increased the volume of her humming. Words followed (it was a pretty yet sad song about a pair of star-crossed lovers), and with his encouragement, she started singing a little for him every day._

_Peeta finally worked up the nerve to ask Hyacinth out; it took him nearly a week once he’d decided because he was so afraid she’d turn him down like he had her. But she didn’t. As he’d thought before, she wasn’t the type to hold grudges. She told him yes right away, and it made him happy to see how excited she was._

_Their first date was a typical one; they went to the movies. They were both nervous at first, even though they’d become so close, but that trickled away, and halfway through the night they were holding hands and sharing popcorn in the dark. And at the end, he kissed her goodnight. It was nice. No fireworks, exactly, not like what he was imagining, but it was really nice._

_Peeta thought a lot about Hyacinth that night as he lay in bed. But he also thought about the girl with the braid… He was frustrated with himself over it, for he’d finally managed to get her off his mind for a while, only to have her return with full-force, as beautiful and consistent as a perennial flower and as stubborn as a weed. What was wrong with him? Peeta wondered. Here he had this pretty, sweet girl who genuinely liked him, and he couldn’t seem to stop thinking of another. He decided then and there that he was done. He wasn’t going to screw things up with Hyacinth; he was going to try even harder._

_Adolescent fantasies have to come to an end eventually, don’t they? They’re fun for a while, although his were also pretty torturous, but any healthy young person knows that there comes a time when he has to stop looking to the clouds and settle for what’s before him._

***  
The thought of ‘settling’ brought Peeta immense guilt because Hyacinth was a far cry from settling. She was incredible, and Peeta felt horrible even thinking she’d been his ‘second-choice.’ But she wasn’t, not really. He never had anything with the mystery girl. Not even a word had passed between them, only one brief look that, if he was being honest, could’ve been a dream for as fleeting and overpowering and ethereal as it was.

And he did become equally entranced with Hyacinth as the girl with the braid, albeit differently. Peeta told himself that he shouldn’t feel bad. Just because his former wife bore a passing resemblance to the girl who’d enchanted him as a teenage boy didn’t mean he hadn’t come to appreciate her for who she was. And he did fall in love with her, for real.

For some time, Peeta had thought there was something really wrong with him, considering the love of his life and the girl of his dreams had been two different people. Or, maybe, he wondered, was it some cruel trick of fate? The whole thing taught him a lesson, though, being that a fantasy can be just that. As powerful as the feelings he thought he had for the girl with the braid were, he now knew that they were superficial at best, and he also discovered that more than one person has the potential to make you feel that way.

Most of all, when it came down to it, he was glad he’d come to his senses or Fate had intervened or whatever because, without Hyacinth, he never would have gotten Daisy... 

“Ahem.” Graham cleared his throat.

Peeta gave his head a quick shake like a reset. He must’ve been away for several minutes by the look of his brother.

“Thought we lost you there.” Graham laughed heartily. “So, anyway, back to the raven-haired, olive-skinned, silver-eyed goddess.”

His older brother was freaking relentless today. Wait…

“Hey, where did you-how did y-?” Peeta began.

“I read it in your diary, Peet. You know, the caption below the picture you drew of her. Damn, could you have been sappier back then?”

“That wasn’t my diary; it was my art journal, you jackass.” Peeta couldn’t believe his older brother had violated his privacy! Oh, wait, yes, he could.

“Pota-to, potah-toh. Anyway, from your drawing, she looked kinda hot.” He whistled low. “You always were good in art, Peet. Except, her breasts were kinda small.”

“There was nothing wrong with her-!” Peeta stopped himself, not wanting to feed into this any more than he already had. But there wasn’t anything wrong with them, not like he’d gotten a great look or ogled them or anything… But like every other part of her, he thought those were perfect, too.

But no, he wasn’t going to divert him.

“I can’t believe you looked at my art journal,” Peeta growled. “That was my private property.” He also couldn’t believe this was all coming out now. It was silly to get angry about it more than 10 years after the fact, but his brothers were always pulling that kinda shit on him.

“Come on, Peet! When you hide it under your bed, that’s not really private, is it? What did you expect me to do?”

“Uh, not look under my bed!” Peeta exclaimed. To think Graham had actually gone into his room and searched for it…what else had he seen in there?

Graham chuckled as if that was a ridiculous notion, and Peeta got quiet for a moment, thinking back on the drawings in that book. He still had it somewhere. Was it stupid that he had the urge to pull it out and look at it again?

Then he recalled one particular sketch…

“...Uh, Graham, you...didn’t happen to see the one…”

Graham got a self-satisfactory grin on his face then. “Ohh yeah. Definitely. Rye and I both took a good long look at that one.”

“You and Rye-! Rye saw my art journal, too?!”

“Of course. We both flipped through it at length. That was our favorite one!”

Peeta face-palmed.

Thing was, there was this one drawing he had done of the mystery girl where she was...well, naked. It wasn’t a dirty thing, though, and personally, he thought it was very tasteful. He’d even turned her slightly to the side and had her arms wrapped around her stomach with her hands splayed, covering a bit of certain areas so as to preserve some of said girl’s modesty. Regardless, he’d blushed like mad at his own creation after finishing.

Peeta had created this work because he’d been inspired to. And he was an artist, so to speak, thus he shouldn’t shy away from the human body. It’s a thing of beauty, after all. He was simply expressing that. Okay, so he was a teenager at the time, and maybe, just maybe it was a little more than that, but he tried to be respectful about it. He didn’t think about doing it with her while he was drawing her or anything like that; he did his best to imagine her solely as his model. Same as he would have if she’d actually been in the room with him. If she had been there in person he would have treated her with the utmost respect and would never, ever have tried to make anything more happen between them. That is, unless she wanted to…

Peeta shook away the thought; he shouldn’t be thinking things like that. Not about a girl he’d never met and especially one who was a perpetual teenager in his mind. Well, he supposed she’d grown up, same as he had. He wondered what she looked like now… He felt really pathetic and a little disgusted with himself to be thinking about her fifteen years later.

He turned his attention on Graham then, who was wearing a smug expression. He knew he was too old for it, but he needed to take his frustration out somehow‒and it was his brother who’d brought it up‒so he tackled Graham and put him in a headlock. It wasn’t an easy feat, considering Graham had a good three inches on him. But those wrestling days paid off.

Turning red in the face, Graham grunted and struggled to free himself from Peeta’s vice grip. He finally managed to wriggle out of his hold, but only because Peeta let up for a second.

Once free, Graham held up a hand, hoping to keep a still-eager-to-tangle Peeta at bay. “Whoa, hey, hey now, easy, tiger. It’s not like we actually saw her naked.”

“Who was naked?” Finnick had, of course, returned at the perfect moment, zeroing in on that particular word.

“Peet’s imaginary girlfriend,” Graham responded without missing a beat. “The girl with the braid.”

“Whoa, imaginary girlfriend! Aww, you had an imaginary crush, Peet?” Peeta shook his head at Finnick.

“How did I not know about this?” Even though Finnick hadn’t known Peeta when they were little kids, he’d heard plenty of childhood stories from the family, after all. “Guess it was before I knew you.”

“You know about it,” Peeta muttered under his breath.

“I do?”

“Yeah.” Peeta pressed his lips together. “And she was real.” _I think…_

Finnick nodded, though he still had no clue who they were talking about. “You say she had a braid?” He grinned. “How cute.”

Peeta took turns scowling at his friend and his brother.

“Sure did,” Graham answered. “Most guys want to get under a girl’s shirt, but Peet just wanted to touch the braid.” He turned to Peeta. “You were so pure, baby bro.”

“Shut up, Graham,” Peeta grunted, not really angry so much as annoyed. Graham stroked his whiskers, completely ignoring Peeta’s ire‒that or relishing in it.

“And she was naked?” Finnick persisted. “What was this, like a kiddie bath thing or something?”

“No, she was only naked in Peeta’s drawing. Guess you weren’t so pure, after all.” Graham winked at Peeta, and Peeta rolled his eyes.

“Wait, I’m confused...a drawing?” Finnick interjected. “Was there really a girl?”

“Supposedly.” Graham guffawed, earning a hard glare from Peeta.

“There was really a girl, yes, but I only got a quick look at her, once.” Peeta lowered his eyes sullenly.

“Ah, I see.” Finnick nodded slowly as he worked to fill in the pieces of the puzzle in his head. “How old were you, Peet? Like 5?”

“Try 16,” Graham chimed in.

Peeta exhaled forcibly. “Thanks, bro.” He turned back to Finnick. “She was the girl I told you about that summer you saved me at the pool. Remember? The one I saw in passing when I was delivering bread.”

“Oh...oh! Oh yeah.” Now Finnick got it. He cocked an eyebrow as if he expected Peeta to say more about the subject.

“And well, she was really...lovely…,” Peeta shrugged, “so, I drew her a few times.”

“A few?!” Graham cackled. “That art diary was a fucking shrine to her!”

Peeta scoffed. “Wasn’t that many.” He directed his words at Finnick. “But yes, I drew some pictures of her, including a nude one, and my brothers, being the dicks they are,” he gave Graham the side-eye, “stole my art journal and looked at them.”

Finnick tsked at Graham, although he was fighting a grin. “That sucks, man.”

Graham simply shrugged. “I really don’t get why you are so worked up about this, Peet. It’s been years! You’re 31, and you have a kid, and you’ve been mar-” He trailed off, apparently realizing he’d crossed a line. “Uh, I’m...that is...shit, I’m sorry, bro.”

Peeta shook his head dismissively.

“No, I was an ass.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m shutting up now. And just to show you how sorry I am, you can be in charge for the rest of the day.”

Peeta smirked over at him. “Fine.”


	4. First Day Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins’ characters, nor the lyrics to “Deep in the Meadow.”

_**Katniss** _

Katniss untied the orange ribbon from Daisy’s golden hair and smoothed out the pieces. She separated her hair into two sections and began wrapping the bright yellow strips around each other. While she braided, she began to hum.

“What’s that song, Miss Everdeen?” Daisy asked curiously.

“Oh.” Katniss stopped abruptly. She’d been doing it unconsciously. “It’s just…a song I used to sing…” She pressed her lips together thoughtfully, “to my little sister.”

“What’s her name?”

“Primrose. Prim.”

“That’s so pretty! And it’s a flower name like mine, right, Miss Everdeen?”

“Yes, Daisy.” Katniss grew somber.

“Does the song have words, Miss Everdeen?”

Katniss paused a moment, then began to sing…

_Deep in the meadow_   
_Under the willow_   
_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_   
_Lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes_   
_And when they open the sun will rise_   
_Here it's safe and here it's warm_   
_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_   
_Here your dreams are sweet_   
_And tomorrow brings them true_   
_Here is the place where I love you…_

Katniss’s voice trembled a bit as she got hung up on the last three words. She loved to sing, of course, but this particular song… Why had she started singing it all of a sudden, it, of all songs? She hadn’t sung it in years, and strangely, it felt as if she was baring a part of her soul to young Daisy Mellark.  
  
Now that she’d stopped, Daisy was looking back at her, big blue eyes wide in wonderment, long golden lashes‒that Katniss wondered how they didn’t get tangled‒fluttering. Daisy didn’t press her to continue, only looked at her with a hopeful expression, her plump cheeks rosy. Fingers curled around a single golden coil of hair, Katniss smiled down at her, and Daisy’s eager young face gave her renewed confidence to sing the next verse...

_Deep in the meadow_   
_Hidden far away_   
_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_   
_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_   
_And when again it's morning they'll all wash away_   
_Here it's safe and here it's warm_   
_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_   
_Here your dreams are sweet_   
_And tomorrow brings them true_   
_Here is the place_   
_Here is the place_   
_Where I love you_

Katniss finished Daisy’s hair. She needed to finagle a bit, making some minor adjustments to how she normally did her own because Daisy’s was so thick and wavy, but she managed it. She used one of her own hair ties to secure the braid and added Daisy’s soft orange ribbon as a final touch. Then she came around to face Daisy, who had been completely silent during the song, so silent it was hard to tell whether or not she was even breathing.

“All done,” Katniss said, flipping the braid over Daisy’s right shoulder. Daisy stared down at it.

“Daisy?” Her student registered her name and met her eyes, and Katniss pulled a small compact out of her back pocket. It was gold-colored and had the emblem of a bird encircled in the middle‒a gift from her good friend Madge. She popped it open to reveal the mirror and held it out to Daisy.

Taking the compact, Daisy stared into the mirror, observing her handiwork closely. “Wow. It’s...it’s beautiful, Miss Everdeen.” She admired and touched it with her free hand.

Still clutching the end of the braid, Daisy said, “Thank you,” softly, almost sadly.

“You’re welcome.” Katniss’s eyes raked across Daisy’s face. She almost looked on the verge of tears. Katniss’s brow wrinkled up. “Are you sure you like it? I can take it out…”

“No.” Daisy shook her head abruptly, causing the braid to whip to the side. “I love it.”

Daisy sounded convincing, though her expression seemed torn.

“I’m glad,” Katniss replied, deciding not to press.

Daisy’s blue eyes fixed on her then. “I’m not lying, Miss Everdeen,” she said directly. “I really do love it. I’m just worried…” Katniss waited for Daisy to say what was worrying her. “I’m just worried about...about hurting my daddy’s feelings, that’s all...you know because he did my hair this morning.”

“Oh. Oh.” Katniss suddenly felt as if she’d overstepped her bounds. Who was she to redo what her dad had done? But was it really such a big deal? Was her dad so sensitive that something as small as this would hurt him? Not wanting to judge, she simply said, “Well, if you want to take it out before you go home, or if you want me to replicate the way you had it earlier, I can.”

Daisy shook her head. “No, I like it. I want to keep it. I think...I think Daddy will understand.”

Katniss nodded. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will,” Daisy said. “Oh, Miss Everdeen? The song was really nice, too.”

Katniss gave her a thin smile, still bewildered over what had possessed her to sing it for Daisy in the first place. What was it about this little blonde ray of sunshine that had coaxed the words from her lips and that seemed to have such an effect on her? Well, no one could deny Daisy was sweet and pleasant. But it was more than that… It couldn’t be just the color of her hair, which consequently, reminded her so much of Prim’s. Was it because her personality was like Prim’s, too? Although Daisy was chattier than Prim, the latter being more listener than talker, their temperaments were similar. But Katniss felt like maybe she was seeing things that weren’t necessarily there. She’d only just met Daisy Mellark today, and yes, she was sweet, polite, and kind, but she was a different person. And it wasn’t right to think of her as a copy of Prim.

“Your voice is very pretty, Miss Everdeen,” Daisy interrupted Katniss’s thoughts.

“Thank you.” Katniss smiled more genuinely this time, having shaken away her silly musings.

“My mommy used to sing to me…,” Daisy began, somberly toying with the end of the braid.

“Oh?”

“Mm.” Daisy nodded, still staring at the braid. “She’s a really good singer, too. I mean was,” she corrected. “...From what I can remember. I don’t know if she…” Daisy’s words trailed off. “I haven’t heard her in a long time...but I hope she’s singing where she is.”

Daisy’s words landed like a rock in Katniss’s stomach, and what was worse, she chose that moment to fix her with those baby blues. Katniss did wonder about her mom situation, especially after that remark‒the way she phrased it was a bit odd‒but it sounded like she didn’t have contact with her mom, or even know where she was. There was another possibility, but Katniss wasn’t about to ask.

“It has my name in it,” Daisy said. “The song.” It felt like a diversion, but perhaps Daisy had simply moved on from the subject. It wasn’t unusual for a child her age to do so quickly.

“Yes,” Katniss nodded, “it does.”

“Guard means ‘protect,’ right, Miss Everdeen?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so,” Daisy bubbled. And then she was off, jabbering away about the words of the song and the ones she knew and what she liked about it. Katniss needed to go and deal with Brandan, but she didn’t want Daisy to feel insulted, so she listened attentively.

Eventually, Daisy cycled back to the daisies. “Will daisies really guard me?” she asked. It seemed just like the type of inquisition to come from Daisy Mellark, at least given Katniss’s very limited experience with her.

“Well…” Katniss considered her answer. Daisy seemed like an intelligent child, a bit sensitive, but she also suspected she caught onto things and perhaps even knew more of the dark parts of life than one would hope at her age.

Katniss wanted to be honest with Daisy, but she didn’t exactly want to be the one to dash any fanciful notions. “It’s a part of the song...,” she began, knowing it was cop-out. “And as we discussed in class, there are plants that can help you. Some you can eat and some are used for medicine…” Katniss knew she was grasping at straws here.

But then she started thinking, about her childhood and about Prim…

“And I’d like to think,” she carried on sincerely, “that there is a special place for everyone. A place where a person can be safe and warm and happy…it can be real or even just in your mind...”

“What’s yours, Miss Everdeen?”

“Mine?” Katniss smiled wistfully. “Mine is a meadow.”

Katniss recalled her Meadow then, the one where she and Prim played as kids. They’d run around in their bare feet through the tall grass, Prim chasing her on shorter, chubbier legs, unable to keep up until Katniss pretended to trip or suddenly got fatigued, even though she could have gone on for hours.

“It was grassy and covered in wildflowers...Rue and Black-eyed Susans and forget-me-nows and Queen Anne’s Lace and daisies,” she playfully tapped the end of Daisy’s pert little nose like she used to do with Prim, “all over the place. My sister and I used to play there.”

Katniss hoped Daisy had such a place, even if only a fond memory.

“So, in a way, the daisies there did guard me...,” Katniss did her best to tie it all together; she wasn’t so great with words. “Because my sister and I were always happiest in the Meadow.”

Daisy pursed her lips. “I don’t really have a place like that, Miss Everdeen. But I’m not worried because I have my daddy. I know my daddy will always protect me.”

“Of course he will. That’s a daddy’s job. And I can tell how much your daddy loves you.”

Daisy gave her a toothy grin.

“And you know, the special place can be a person, too.” Katniss knew it was kind of sappy, but nonetheless, she believed it. If a person is lucky enough, they have or find someone, be it family, friend, or lover, who loves them unconditionally, makes them indescribably happy, heals them when they need it, and even completes them in a way no one else could.

Katniss was lucky enough to have had two‒her father and Prim. Of course, things happen…

“It can, Miss Everdeen?” Daisy asked innocently.

“Of course. Like a daddy. My special place used to be my daddy, too. But I lost him. He’s still up here, though.” She pointed to her head. “And in here.” She pointed to her heart. “Always.”

“Thank you, Miss Everdeen. That’s good to know,” Daisy Mellark said in a manner that seemed mature beyond her years. “I mean, I’m not saying it’s good you lost your daddy!” She started to speak rapidly again in a more Daisy-like fashion. “I’m really sorry, Miss Everdeen!”

Katniss simply smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Daisy. I knew what you meant. And thank you.”

They exchanged a smile, and Katniss rose to her feet. “Now,” she took Daisy’s braid between her fingers and gave it a playful little tug. “I have to go and deal with Brandan. Why don’t you walk with me a bit?” Daisy nodded.

They walked side by side, crossing the playground. Not long after, Katniss felt tiny fingers slipping into the hand at her side. Before she could return the gesture, though, Daisy pulled back abruptly. Katniss noticed her head darting around. She was probably afraid she’d appear a baby if she held her teacher’s hand. Katniss pressed her lips tightly together.

Daisy had so much to give. She was tender-hearted and bubbly, but uncertain and lacking in confidence. What she needed was a friend who would care about her and encourage her to be herself. Katniss scanned the area for an appropriate playmate she could nudge her toward. It didn’t take long for her to settle on Lark, Rue’s daughter.

Lark was generally quiet, and sweet as could be. She had a certain sass to her, though; she wasn’t the type to let herself be walked on, and she had a wit and wisdom rarely seen in one so young. She was a lot like her mother. Yes, Lark would be the perfect playmate for Daisy and would undoubtedly have a positive effect on her. But Katniss didn’t want to directly ask Lark to befriend Daisy. She pondered the best way to go about getting the two together.

But there turned out to be no need for intervention, for Lark ran up to the two of them on her own and engaged Daisy in conversation. Of course, Lark would zone-in on someone like Daisy. It only seemed natural.

Katniss thought about her own relationship with Lark’s mother. Rue was also a teacher there; she worked with the kindergarteners, and she was one of Katniss’s best friends, despite being a few years younger. Rue was also wise beyond her years, actually much more mature than Johanna, and definitely more PG. Rue had initiated contact with Katniss way back when, much as Lark had just done, zeroing in on the new girl who could use a friend, and from then on, they’d been close.

As for the rest of Lark’s brood, they were a lovely, albeit slightly odd-looking family when they all stood together. Rue was short and dainty, birdlike, even, whereas her husband, Thresh, was a giant hulking man, more akin to a moose. Thresh could most accurately be described as the strong, silent type, but once you got to know him, he was a nice, friendly guy with a great sense of humor. Oh, and he was definitely protective of his wife and daughter. Basically, Thresh could be as gentle as a moth or as fierce as a lion, depending on the circumstances.

Pleased with this development, Katniss excused herself from the pair of girls, but she took her time walking away so she could listen in a little.

“I like your hair,” Lark told Daisy.

“Thanks! Miss Everdeen did it for me!”

“It’s nice. I liked it before, too. I don’t care what Brandan said. He’s an idiot.”

“That’s what Miss Everdeen said.” Katniss turned to look back and caught sight of Daisy clasping her hand over her mouth. “Oops! I wasn’t supposed to say that,” Daisy muttered through her hand. “Sometimes I talk too much,” she admitted, removing her hand.

Lark laughed a little. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Lark placed her hands on her hips. “You know, Brandan really shouldn’t treat you like that. He’s always mean to kids who aren’t in his special group. Even some that are. Wish we could teach him a lesson somehow. Get back at him.”

“Get back at him? Like how?”

“I’m not sure.” Lark shrugged. “Maybe play a trick on him.”

Daisy seemed to consider it but then shook her head. “No, I don’t want to get back at him. My daddy taught me to always be kind to people, even when they’re not kind to you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Lark bobbed her head. “Besides, I’m sure Miss Everdeen will punish him real good.”

Satisfied that Daisy was in good hands and that the girls were going to behave themselves, Katniss turned and walked away. Personally, she would love to help Daisy and Lark get back at Brandan, but it wasn’t appropriate for a teacher to be thinking of taking vengeance on one of her students. As Miss Trinket would say, “It’s just bad manners!” Well, it would be more than that and would probably get her fired, but that didn’t mean she had no authority to hand out consequences to Brandan. She considered the best course of action. She’d make him apologize, of course, and she’d take away the rest of his recess, certainly. And if he wouldn’t apologize, well, she had some thought, namely the task he despised the most.

Katniss approached Brandan and his group. Nearly all boys, mainly the roughest, most arrogant ones in the class, which included: Mirakel, Brutus’s son, Cyrus, and a few others. Two girls were allowed into the elite pack‒Brandan’s half-sister, Cato and Clove’s daughter, Rosemary, and Enobaria’s daughter, Titania. Both Rosemary and Titania were equally tough as the boys, or perhaps tougher, considering one of them was usually ordering the boys around.

“Brandan,” Katniss called out. A blonde head shot up from atop the castle slide.

“What?” he called out.

“Come down here.”

“Why?” Brandan sassed.

“Because I said so.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Brandan, you’ll come down here right now. Unless you want all your friends to see you get in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble? Why?!”

Katniss sighed. “Just get down here.”

Katniss heard Brandan huff, and a few seconds later, he came barreling down the slide headfirst. He caught himself at the end, stood, and brushed himself off. Then, he took his time walking over to her.

Giving Katniss an obstinate look, Brandan demanded, “What did I do? I didn’t do nothin’.”

“Anything. And you know that you did, so why don’t you save us both some time and tell me what you think this is all about.”

Brandan exhaled sharply and scratched the back of his head. He turned to look over his shoulder at his group, all gathered around watching. He turned back to his teacher. “Maybe I...was mean to the new girl.”

Katniss nodded her head. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

He didn’t seem contrite at all, only sorry he’d been caught.

“How’d you find out? Who told? Did she tattle on me?” Brandan raised his voice.

“Never mind that. Doesn’t matter how I found out. The point is you did it, and you need to make it right.”

Brandan grimaced. “How?”

“Well, for starters, you need to apologize to Daisy.”

Brandan shot a look back at his group, then snapped his head back to his teacher. He looked up at her, clenched his jaw, and said, “No.”

“No?”

“No, you can’t make me, Miss Everdeen! This is a free country!”

Katniss sighed at Brandan’s brand of logic. “That may be, but I am your teacher. I’m the authority figure here, and I’m telling you to do something.”

His icy blue eyes flashed with animosity. “What will you do if I don’t?” He glared defiantly up at her.

“I’ll give you a consequence.”

“What consequence?” Leave it to Brandan to want to know all his options before deciding what he’s willing to risk and what he was able to get away with. Like father, like son.

Katniss was annoyed but kept her quiet resolve. Wouldn’t be the first time she’d deal with Brandan (or another child’s) defiance. “For one, you’ll lose the rest of your recess, possibly tomorrow, too. And I’ll give you a task.”

Brandan’s face twisted as if he knew what she would do already, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll give you until the end of recess to think about it,” Katniss said. She reached for his arm to guide him along, but he wrenched it away, so she simply pointed to the wall. Grudgingly, Brandan marched over, stomping the ground as loudly as he could along the way. Upon reaching the wall of the school, he spun around, folded his arms, and plopped down to a seated position. He shot one last glare Katniss’s way before fixing his eyes on the ground.

Katniss sighed. She’d give him some time to cool off, and if he wouldn’t apologize, well, she had just the task for him‒the one he hated the most.

Katniss checked her watch then. There were only ten minutes left in the recess period anyway. She casually glanced back at Brandan, who’d raised his head slightly but dropped it immediately upon seeing her look, and she walked away. She strolled around the playground, checked on Blake and made sure all was in order before cycling back to Rue and Daisy. All seemed well there; she’d let them play without interrupting. She took a seat on one of the swings and pushed herself a few times before getting up and making her way over to Brandan.

Just prior to the bell signaling the end of recess, Katniss asked Brandan what he’d decided, and not too surprisingly, he said he wasn’t going to apologize to Daisy. Of course, he hadn’t used her name; he’d called her that freak girl. Well, that just made Katniss angrier, and somehow the punishment she had in mind didn’t seem severe enough. But she kept her cool and announced to him that after art class he would stay to help Mr. C rather than receiving his end of the day snack with the rest of the class.

Cinna, known as Mr. C to the kids, was a brilliant artist; his sketches were particularly amazing, but his real love was for fashion design. He was actually building his own company and was only teaching art to get by in the meantime. Katniss wanted Cinna to be successful, of course, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before he was with his talent, but she would hate to see him go. He was great with the kids, and despite the difference in their ages‒Cinna had a good 10 to 15 years on her‒they’d connected well.

Well, Brandan made a fuss about his punishment, but ultimately gave in, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

***  
When the students returned from art class, Katniss felt excitement swelling in her chest. It was her favorite part of the week, music class. She’d had to bribe him, but Haymitch had agreed to allow her to work it into their curriculum. And most of the class loved it. There were some shy ones, of course, and some of the boys had disliked it in the beginning, that is until she let them beat on pots and pans for accompaniment, but mostly everyone had quickly come around to the idea of it. Regarding the pots and pans, they were just placeholders. They did have some ‘real’ instruments, not many, but the school was supposed to be getting more.

That had been another battle with Haymitch, in which he’d demanded to know if she thought they were made of money and had reminded her, “This ain’t Capitol Elementary, sweetheart.” But she’d worn him down, and he’d promised to see what he could do.

For now, they got by with what they had, and Katniss had managed to find a place for everyone and a way for even the most reluctant of children to take something from music class. She was never one to force her own tastes and interests on others, but at the same time, she at least wanted to expose the children to it. So many people, especially young people, didn’t know what they liked until they had some experience with it.

As for Katniss, she’d liked music for as long as she could remember. Music had always been a big part of her life; her father had instilled in her a love for it at a very young age. In fact, some of her earliest memories were of her father singing her to sleep. And he had an incredible voice, so beautiful that even the birds seemed to stop and listen. Granted, after he died, she turned away from music for a while, stopped singing altogether, and wouldn’t listen to the radio. She even secretly despised the melodies of the birds outside her window in the early mornings. But as she grew and matured and healed, she realized that perhaps she was dishonoring his memory by not embracing her father’s legacy. So, she took it up again. It began as a dip of a toe in water, progressing to a daily regimen of song. Katniss found that it actually made her happy. And it seemed as if her father was smiling down on her when she sang and saying “Atta girl.” Somehow, it felt like part of her soul had been missing, and music began to fill it up.

After the class had finished their snack, Katniss clapped her hands together and asked, “Who’s ready to sing?” Most of the small hands in the room shot up in the air; there were even a few shrieks of delight.

“And who knows how to sing?” Fewer raised their hands this time but still most, some being more certain than others. Well, they’d already had a couple of music classes, but Katniss wanted to delve in deeper and be more structured about it. The last couple of times they’d just toyed around with a couple of instruments and sang along with songs from her playlist. Katniss suspected musical theory would be less enjoyable than that, but she thought it important.

“Sure, anyone can sing, right?” Katniss went on. “But there’s a difference between just mimicking what you hear and actually knowing and hitting the right notes in the correct pitch.”

She proceeded to write the major and minor scales on the board and had the class recite them, for Daisy’s benefit and as a recap of last time. Then she had them sing ‘Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do’ as a warm-up. After a few rounds of that, everyone seemed to be in harmony, and though she didn’t call her out (because she didn’t want to embarrass her), Katniss could tell Daisy was keeping up well enough for it being her first time. She could also tell that Daisy had a nice voice, even if she sang a bit too softly, clearly trying to blend in rather than shine out–another confidence issue, no doubt.

Wanting to keep things simple, Katniss decided to teach the class a simple melody that Rue had taught her years ago. It was an interesting story, really. Rue worked in an apple orchard as a young girl, into her teens, and she and the others had made up a little song to signify quitting time.

Katniss wrote the notes of Rue’s melody out on the blackboard: G - Bb - A - D.

First, she hummed them for the class; then she whistled; finally, she sang out. “Ah ah ah ah!” She indicated for the class to try.

It was a valiant effort.

“Almost,” she encouraged. She sang it again, this time moving her hands in tandem with the up-up-up-down progression of the tune. “Ah ah ah ah…”  
This time, the class got it. They practiced a few more times before moving on to the playlist and instruments.

***  
The end of the day came quickly, and while the other students all filed out (some, having to be reminded to walk, not run), Daisy lingered, unsure what to do. Katniss told her not to worry, that she’d walk her to the bus stop, so she wouldn’t get lost. Apparently, her father had dropped her off but was worried he wouldn’t be done with work in time to pick her up, so he’d arranged for her to ride the bus. Katniss had planned on walking her there, anyway; she wanted to make sure she got on the right bus, even though there were only three. After ensuring Daisy had everything, including her permission slip for the nature walk, Katniss walked her down. As most of the school had already cleared out, this time, Daisy held her hand in the hall.

Katniss passed buses 1 and 2, waving to Lavinia and Seeder in turn, then strolled over to number 3 with Daisy. Seated behind the wheel was Darius. When he caught sight of her, he smoothed his messy red hair, craned his neck to see her better, and gave her a wink. She nodded passively to him.

“Is that your boyfriend, Miss Everdeen?” Daisy asked.

Katniss had to stifle the garbled noise that rose up in her throat. “Uh, no, Daisy. Not at all.” She glanced up at Darius, who’d heard and was shooting her something of a wounded look. She shook her head amusedly at him.

Daisy gave her hand a little tug. “Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Everdeen? Or a husband? Oh, wait.” Daisy tugged on her braid. “You’re ‘Miss’ Everdeen, so that means you’re unmarried, right?”

The corner of Katniss’s mouth tilted slightly. “Yes, Daisy. I’m unmarried. And no, no boyfriend, either.”

“Oh.” Daisy seemed to consider this a moment. “But...why? You’re so pretty and nice.”

Katniss smiled a little and shrugged. She didn’t know that she agreed with either sentiment‒she wasn’t really very friendly with people, only those she knew, and she definitely wasn’t much to look at, not when compared to the other females she was surrounded by‒but it was sweet that Daisy thought so.

“Well, I don’t know, Daisy. Maybe it’s because I’m not good at saying things.” She leaned down to whisper in Daisy’s ear for the next part. “Or, maybe it’s because grownup boys are idiots, too.” Daisy laughed, that sweet, melodic sound only a child can produce.

“Well, except for your daddy,” Katniss added plainly, recalling how highly Daisy had praised her father before.

Daisy beamed and gave a strong nod. “You know, you should meet my daddy, Miss Everdeen.”

“I’m sure I will someday. You are my student, after all.”

Daisy glanced up at the redheaded bus driver, who was listening intently, then back to her teacher. “Miss Everdeen...thanks. For helping me today. And being so nice.”

“Not at all, Daisy.”

Daisy’s eyes flitted between the bus and Katniss.

“Are you scared of taking the bus?” Katniss asked directly but quietly.

“No.” She gave an adamant shake of the head.

“Good. There’s no need to worry.” Katniss motioned with her head toward Darius. “Mr. D is a bit silly–,” Katniss recalled one time Darius had suggested she purchase a kiss from him at a school fair and claimed it was for ‘charity’– “but he’s a nice man and a good driver. And there,” Katniss looked up, and Daisy followed her eyes, “I see Lark in the third seat on the left. I’m sure you could sit by her.” Lark waved to both of them.

This seemed to quell any hesitation Daisy had. She smiled and threw her arms around Katniss. Katniss was surprised, but she hugged her back. Daisy pulled away, gave a small wave, and took the bus steps.

“Well, hello, young miss,” Darius greeted with that undeniable–regardless of his age–boyish charm of his.

“Hello, Mr. D.”

“I hear your name is Daisy. Starts with a D, just like mine.” Katniss caught the hint of a smile on Daisy’s profile. “Like Miss Everdeen said, don’t you worry none.” He patted her head. “I’ll get you home safely.” Daisy shyly nodded and walked off down the aisle of the bus. Katniss lost sight of her for then but waited until her blonde head poked up in the seat next to Lark. Lark kindly offered her the window seat, and Daisy accepted.

Daisy smiled and waved at Katniss as the bus began to pull out. Katniss waved back, and neither Daisy nor Katniss’s eyes left each other’s face until they were no longer visible to each other.


	5. First Day Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth and final part, third and final split (lol) of First Day (it was soo long). Don't worry. Each day of school will not be this long, was just due to all the build-up and backstory. Thanks for your patience with me. I got carried away and was told this chapter was long and a bit much to take in, so I broke it up. Hopefully, it feels more manageable/less confusing now. 
> 
> Also, I finally figured out how to switch to Rich Text and edit, yay! The messenger conversation and note are in italics. And the time jumps or perspective changes are offset by asterisks.

_**Peeta** _

“How was school, princess?” Peeta greeted Daisy as soon as she walked through the door. He’d managed to extricate himself from the bakery in time to arrive minutes before her. It was definitely helpful having her take the bus; although, he did feel bad for not picking her up on her first day, even though he was told it was less than ten minutes (with stops) from school to home.

Daisy paused before responding, “It was good, Daddy.”

“Did you eat your lunch.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Do you like your teacher?”

“Very much!” she exclaimed. “Miss Everdeen is the BEST!” Well, that’s a relief, thought Peeta.

“How was the bus ride?” he questioned further.

“Good. Mr. D is funny.”

Peeta nodded, assuming Mr. D was her bus driver. To his great surprise, Daisy said nothing after that; she seemed to be done with talking. Already? That was odd. He’d expected her to say much more about school, so naturally, he feared the day hadn’t gone well, despite what she said about it being good and her enthusiastic response about her teacher. Yes, she acted chipper, but something seemed amiss. He wondered if he should gently press for more information. But, no. Maybe she was simply feeling overwhelmed. He’d give her time to process, and she’d surely have more to say later.

Daisy moved past him then (what, no hug?) and headed toward her room, and that’s when Peeta noticed her hair.

It was in a...braid? He stared at it. He’d never seen her hair like this before, ever. He’d certainly never done it for her; he didn’t know how. So, who had?

“Daisy, your hair...” He began. She turned back, and her hand shot to the braid; she pulled it over her shoulder and began to fidget with it.

  
“Um,” she tugged on the end, stalling a little, “do you like it, Daddy?”

“I do,” Peeta told her genuinely, and he smiled. “Very much.” Daisy seemed pleased. And it was true. It looked nice on her. And actually, it reminded him of his earlier conversation with Graham…

Suddenly, Peeta flashed to the mystery girl from so long ago. Dammit, what was this? He shouldn’t be thinking about his teenage crush at his age! It was just plain weird. And more than a little pathetic. Of course, Graham had been the one to bring her up and get him thinking about her all over again, and he was inwardly cursing him for that.

But the girl wouldn’t be a teenager anymore, he reminded himself; she’d be about his age. So, there was really nothing wrong with thinking about her. He wondered if she lived around here. He had been on the outskirts of the Seam when he saw her that day, so it was possible. People in D12 weren’t likely to go far, after all. His moving 12 miles away was about as far as anyone went. Maybe the mystery girl-woman even lived in their neighborhood. Maybe he’d see her out in her yard gardening or something someday, and he’d be able to naturally speak to her because he was her neighbor and that was the neighborly thing to do. Or, maybe he’d run into her at the grocery store or somewhere…

Would they know one another if their paths crossed, though? She probably wouldn’t know him, but he’d like to think he’d know her. Those eyes would be a dead giveaway.

Peeta tried to imagine what the girl with the braid and the fascinating silver eyes looked like now. Had she changed much? Surely, she’d changed some in fifteen years‒everyone did. He certainly had, as every guy does when traversing between teenage boy and man. But he’d like to think it was mostly for the better. Sure, he had more lines and darker circles beneath his eyes, but his face was a man’s now, clearer-complected, stronger and shapelier of jaw, his baby fat practically nonexistent. His physique wasn’t much different from back then, either, possibly better. He’d grown a bit taller and had managed to stay in relatively good shape, despite no longer wrestling and working in a bakery (well, he wasn’t allowed to eat the product anyway).

What of her? It was of no consequence, really. No matter how she might have changed, whether she was the great beauty his teenage self had worshipped from afar or not, he’d still want to meet her. If only to put that chapter of his life to rest.

Suddenly, Peeta was hopeful. He found himself actually growing excited by the prospect of seeing her again, and of course, by the image of her as a full-fledged woman. But he quickly shook away the thoughts encroaching upon his mind.

What were the odds they’d meet again, anyway? Not astronomical, but he wasn’t going to count on it. And knowing each other if they did, the chances seemed slim. Not like there was really anything to know. To think they could pass right by each other without ever realizing… That thought seemed rather depressing, but somehow, Peeta was certain that if he could just see her eyes again he would know it was her. Even if the girl with the braid had changed a lot, he was sure he could identify those eyes. That is unless by some crazy chance there was another woman in this world with those gorgeous grays.

Purely speculation, Peeta considered what would happen if they did run into each other and happened to recognize the other. Would she talk to him? Would it be a funny moment like ‘hey, long time no see!’ Oh, he was being ridiculous now. More than likely, she’d just keep walking as she had that day. But would he go after this time? Maybe…if he could do so without seeming like a stalker. He’d have to find a way. He couldn’t possibly let the opportunity pass by again. Maybe he could ‘accidentally’ bump into her and make up some excuse to talk to her, at least find out her name...he so wanted to know her name…

Peeta shook his head at how preposterous this all seemed, even in his head, and he refocused his attention where it belonged‒on his daughter. Somehow, connecting her with the mystery girl felt very wrong.

Daisy was still standing there, playing with that braid, only now, she had a hold of the thickest part of it and was sliding it through her thumb and forefinger. She did this several times, smiling to herself. She clearly liked it a lot.

Clearing his throat, Peeta asked, “Uh, who did that for you, sweetheart?

“Miss Everdeen,” she replied.

“Oh, that was nice of her.”

“Yeah. Miss Everdeen wears it this way, too,” Daisy went on, giving the braid one last caress before tossing it back over her shoulder.

“Oh, does she?”

Daisy stared down at her feet, bobbing her head once.

Well, that was a coincidence. But then again, not really. Lots of women wore their hair in braids.

Daisy peered up uncertainly at her father, her blues meeting his, and quickly added, “I really, really, really liked how you did my hair, Daddy,” she laid it on a bit thick, “but it-it came loose and got in my eyes, so Miss Everdeen did this for me.” That part was true.

“I see. Well, it looks very nice.”

“So, you’re not mad, Daddy?”

“Of course not, sweetheart. Why would I be mad?”

“Because-because you…worked so hard on it this morning.” Her eyes flitted briefly away then back. “You really like it?” she asked hopefully.

Peeta approached Daisy and took a knee. He tapped her nose then gently encircled the braid within his hand, observing it closely. Looking straight into her eyes, he told her, “Yes. You look lovelier than Queen Elsa and Anna and Susan Pevensie and Anne of Green Gables and Heidi…,” he named off a few more characters he knew of who’d worn their hair in some kind of braid at some point, “combined.” Daisy giggled and gave him a light smack on the chest.

“But it doesn’t really matter if I like it. It matters if you like it.”

Daisy smiled and nodded. “I do! I do!”

“Well then, looks like I’m going to have to learn how to braid.” Peeta grinned. “Perhaps Miss Everdeen teaches a course.”

Daisy barked out a laugh. “Oh, Daddy, you’re so silly!”

After that, she brightened up and started chattering away, about what she did in school, about making a new friend, but mostly, about Miss Everdeen. She’d say things like 'Miss Everdeen is so pretty.' 'Miss Everdeen is so smart.' 'Miss Everdeen is so cool.' Apparently, Miss Everdeen could do no wrong with Daisy.

Once she’d grown tired of singing Miss Everdeen’s praises, Daisy bounced off to her room. At least she seemed more like herself, Peeta thought with relief as he headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

* * *

_**Daisy** _

Along the way to her room, Daisy felt conflicted. Her daddy didn’t seem upset, but it was the first time she’d ever fibbed to him. And it was giving her a weird butterfly feeling in her tummy. Well, she didn’t exactly fib, but she didn’t tell him the whole truth, either, like she always did. She hadn’t told him about the boy who made fun of her hair because she knew he’d feel bad. Was that wrong? She wondered. Was it wrong to leave out part of the truth to keep from hurting someone’s feelings? Maybe she could ask Miss Everdeen tomorrow.

* * *

_**Katniss** _

Katniss had just finished a quick supper of leftover lamb stew and dried plums and was watering her plants. She had amassed quite a few of them, some common and others more exotic, and to be honest, her small cottage on the edge of the forest was beginning to look like a greenhouse. But growing things was her hobby, she supposed. That, reading, and hunting.

She was preparing to slip into bed and read when her phone began to ring. She grabbed it off of her nightstand, took one look, and groaned. “Seriously?” she muttered aloud. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen this coming, but it was still annoying. He could have sent her a message on the message board, but no, he had to call her. Didn’t he care about disturbing her evening? No, she shook her head, he didn’t.

“Hello, Cato,” Katniss answered, attempting to sound less annoyed than she was, though not at all cheerful.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Everdeen,” Cato barked into the phone.

“Oh. What’s that?” she asked, knowing full well what it was about.

“I hear you took away my son’s recess time and made him clean art supplies.”

“Yes, I did. Your son was bullying another child, and need I remind you that our school has a zero-tolerance bullying policy? If you take issue with that, please speak with Principal Abernathy.”

Cato scoffed loudly into the phone. “Talking to that drunk is useless. Then again, you’re only slightly better,” he growled.

Katniss rolled her eyes and dropped to the edge of the bed, merely listening while Cato railed on her for a good five minutes about punishing his child. “Look, I taught my son to speak his mind‒!”

“Oh, he definitely does that,” Katniss interrupted, sick of this.

“So, you just automatically believe that new girl! You can’t show favoritism, Ms. Everdeen!”

“I don’t. I treat all of my students the same, and I would have punished any child who’d done what Brandan did. And by the way, he owned up to it.”  
Cato seemed momentarily at a loss for words. “Still...you shouldn’t have...that was an unfair punishment!”

Why was it some parents seemed even more immature than their kids? Brandan had been sour about his penance, yes, but worst he’d done once he accepted it was give her subtle dirty looks the rest of the afternoon until he finally forgot about it.

Katniss didn’t know what possessed her to say what she did next. Perhaps she was tired, or perhaps this was simply the final straw with Cato, who she’d been dealing with since high school. “It’s not really Brandan’s fault, not completely. Nine times out of ten it’s the parents in these situations.”

“What?! How dare y-!”

“Maybe you should look at what you’re teaching him.”

Cato started cursing her out then. Okay, so maybe she’d baited him. She could have been a tad more diplomatic, but it needed said.

“This school is a shithole, and you are the worst teacher I’ve ever heard of! I’ll just pull my son out and send him to Capitol Elementary! I’ll move if I have to!”  
I’m sure you won’t have to, thought Katniss. Just toss some money at them, that should do the trick.

She barely restrained herself from saying it aloud. Instead, she told him, “By all means, Cato, you do that. I’m sure they’ll be happy to have the both of you.”  
Cato got in a couple more F-bombs before hanging up on her. Good riddance.

Katniss felt on edge, and not the good kind of on edge she felt while tracking. Her blood was boiling, and her pulse was pounding with adrenaline. Usually, when she felt that way, she went to the woods, but it was getting late. She tried to talk herself down. She knew by now not to take everything a parent says at face value, especially one like Cato. It wasn’t the first time they’d gotten into such a conversation, but perhaps not quite as heated. Katniss knew how to keep her cool, of course, but sometimes she heated up so much inside that she became like a kettle, and the steam just had to come out.

She was just deescalating when a ping came from her phone. It was the unmistakable sound of receiving a message on the school’s messaging board, The Hob. It was a platform where teachers and parents could converse.

“What, are you going to spam me with hate messages now, Cato? Give it a rest,” muttered Katniss. At least there was a profanity filter set, so she didn’t have to read Cato’s filthy remarks in addition to hearing them, and she could always block or report his comments if they got bad enough.

Well, she really wasn’t in the mood to hear more from Cato, but her instincts seemed to be telling her to open the message. So, she signed in and clicked on the tiny envelope. It wasn’t from Cato. It was from PMellark.

Oh, Daisy’s father. She read it.

_**PMellark:** I wanted to thank you for being so nice to my daughter, Daisy, and making her transition seamless. Also, the braid was lovely._

Katniss smiled. She decided to go ahead and respond to Mr. Mellark, but she hated typing on her phone, so she went into her study and opened up her laptop. Her evergreen background greeted her brightly. After putting her master password in, she clicked on the icon for The Hob and hit the button below her avatar to log in with her saved password.

Once in, she hovered her mouse over the message center, but then she noticed the usernames on the right side. “Oh. PMellark is online.”  
Should she message him directly, she wondered. She decided to do it.

_**KEverdeen:** Hello, Mr. Mellark._

It didn’t take long for a responding ding to come through.

_**PMellark:** Miss Everdeen, what a pleasant surprise!_

She could practically hear the pleased lilt in his tone behind the screen. She began to type…

_**KEverdeen:** Thank you for the message. It was kind of you but unnecessary. I was just doing my job. Besides, it’s easy being nice to someone like Daisy._

_**PMellark:** Seems like you went above and beyond._

Katniss wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so she simply told him she just wanted to make Daisy feel welcome.

_**PMellark:** Well, it seems like you more than succeeded. She really likes you, you know._

Katniss smiled.

_**KEverdeen:** The feeling’s mutual._

_**PMellark:** The braid was a hit, too. I doubt I’ll be able to convince her to take it out for days, which will cause some problems at bath time._

_**PMellark:** Oh, shoot, I must be keeping you! I’m so sorry about that._

Katniss grinned. Somehow, she was hearing Mr. Mellark chattering away in Daisy’s voice, albeit more manly. They resembled each other in their speech; he too was quite chatty.

_**KEverdeen:** It’s fine, Mr. Mellark. I wasn’t quite ready for bed yet. I’m usually up until 10 or 11._

_**PMellark:** And responding to parents’ messages rather than enjoying your evening. I commend you, Miss Everdeen._

Mr. Mellark added a smiley face. Okay, so as with Daisy, it was hard not to like this guy. She imagined him having a personality kind of like Santa Claus; he’d probably be a big hit at the mall in December. Although, from the way Johanna talked, he looked the exact opposite. But it didn’t matter.  
She didn’t know what to say, though for some reason, she wasn’t quite ready to end the conversation. Fortunately, Mr. Mellark took the reins.

_**PMellark:** I like your profile picture, by the way._

_**KEverdeen:** Thank you. It was taken right here in the Seam._

_**PMellark:** It’s nice. Very green._

Katniss smirked. Her avatar was an image of evergreen trees (her favorite tree because they were resilient, everlasting) in the forest she lived near on the edge of the Seam.

_**KEverdeen:** Well, green is my favorite color._

_**PMellark:** Really? Bet you can’t guess mine..._

Oh geez, he wanted her to guess? How in the world did he expect her to be able to do that?

_**PMellark:** Just kidding. I won’t make you guess. It’s orange._

_**KEverdeen:** Like Ms. Trinket’s hair?_

She typed before she thought. Had Mr. Mellark even met Miss Trinket? Mr. Mellark sent a laughing emoji right after, so he must have. Another message quickly followed.

_**PMellark:** Not THAT orange! Soft, like the sunset..._

Katniss smiled in spite of the sappiness. She supposed sunsets were nice, and of course, someone as bubbly as Mr. Mellark would like them. Changing the subject, she told him she liked his image, too. His was of Daisy in a sunny meadow blowing a cottony white dandelion in its seeding stage.

_**PMellark:** Thank you._

_Smiley face. Mr. Mellark loved his emojis._

_**KEverdeen:** Daisy is a beautiful little girl. Very sweet, too. I know a lot of teachers say this, but she really is a joy to have in class._

_**PMellark:** I’m glad to hear that. She really seems to like you, too._

Again, Katniss smiled. Why was it so easy and comfortable talking to Mr. Mellark? She supposed because he was behind a screen. But still, the conversation seemed to flow better than most she'd had.

 _ **PMellark:** Oh, thanks again for doing Daisy’s hair. She told me it came loose and was in her eyes_.

Katniss wondered if that was all she’d told her dad.

_**KEverdeen:** You’re welcome. I thought it might help._

_**PMellark:** I’m sure it did, and I appreciate it. I admit I’m not very good at doing hair._

Katniss pressed her lips together. It was refreshing that Mr. Mellark could admit that. In a small way, it showed he didn’t have a big ego, even though not many men would brag about their hair styling abilities.

_**KEverdeen:** You did fine._

Katniss hesitated. She had a suggestion for Mr. Mellark, although she was worried about how it would be received. Her conversation with Cato had put her on edge, but Mr. Mellark had managed to completely calm her, so she felt confident in taking the chance.

_**KEverdeen:** Mr. Mellark, I know it’s not my place, but may I make a recommendation about Daisy?_

_**PMellark:** Sure. Go ahead._

Katniss took a deep breath and typed…

* * *

_**Peeta** _

Peeta received the alert that Miss Everdeen was typing, and he waited. He felt as though he’d been monopolizing the conversation a little. He hoped he hadn’t been too over-the-top. Hm, Miss Everdeen seemed to be taking longer than with her previous messages. She was obviously a quick typist, so she must be carefully considering what to say.

A message came through about fifteen seconds later.

_**KEverdeen:** As I said, you did a fine job on her hair, and I meant that. It just wasn’t tight enough, and Daisy’s hair is thick and curly, so you might try some product. There’s a hair product line called Songbird. You can find it at the local drugstore. It’s not expensive. I use it on mine, too. Get the hair gel, the one for curly hair. It’ll help smooth it out to where it’s more manageable, but you may need to go through some of the knots with your fingers and a comb in the mornings before styling it._

_**PMellark:** Thank you very much, Miss Everdeen. I will do that._

There was another slight delay before her next message.

_**KEverdeen:** I appreciate your positive response, Mr. Mellark. Not all parents accept suggestions or constructive criticism from me. In fact, I just got yelled at tonight by a parent whose son I had to punish today._

_**PMellark:** Yeah, some parents can get pretty testy about their children, especially if they think their parenting skills are being called into question. But I assure you, Miss Everdeen, I’m not like that. I didn’t think badly of your recommendation. I appreciated it. Honestly, I’m open to any help I can get. Daisy’s getting older, and...I’m not quite sure what I’m doing…_

_**KEverdeen:** I think you’re doing a nice job._

This time Miss Everdeen added a smiley. Her first one. And Peeta breathed a small sigh of relief. He’d worried he’d been overdoing it with the emojis. Somehow, now that she’d used one, he felt a bit better.

But he probably had been overdoing it. And he wasn’t sure why. There was just something about Miss Everdeen that brought it out of him. She was easy to talk to, and she definitely had a certain charm. Regardless, he didn’t need to try and get charming with his daughter’s teacher. Not only was it a really bad idea, but he didn’t even know how old she was. She could be a sixty-year-old woman for all he knew, though he suspected she was young. She seemed to talk ‘young,’ if that was really possible, and not to mention Daisy had called her pretty. Not that older women couldn’t be pretty, but they weren’t usually described as such by little girls. Could he try and get more information out of Daisy? No, that wouldn’t be right.

Anyway, whether Miss Everdeen was fresh out of college or pushing retirement, it wasn’t appropriate for him to be so friendly with her. Even if she was his age and unmarried‒and he suspected she was at least the latter, considering she was a ‘Miss’‒that didn’t mean she didn’t have a burly boyfriend who would put his old wrestling maneuvers to the test. And more importantly, she was his daughter’s teacher, and he didn’t want to cross any boundaries.

He feared he’d already pushed the limits with some of his remarks, such as the one about liking her picture. Not that it was a picture of her. It was just scenery, so it was harmless, right? Funnily, he wasn’t quite sure of all the rules of proper social conduct anymore. It had been some time since he’d had an extended conversation with a woman who wasn’t related to him or who he hadn’t known forever. Maybe he was worrying needlessly.

_**PMellark:** Thank you. That means a lot coming from someone who knows children so well._

What was he doing? Being so complimentary with Miss Everdeen, and dare he say almost...flirting? Okay, so it wasn’t like he’d told her he liked her eyes. How could he, anyway, when he’d never even seen them? Besides, she’d complimented him first. He was merely accepting it and giving one back. And it wasn’t so strange to say that a teacher knows children; they generally do.

Thankfully, Miss Everdeen didn’t comment, only gave a brief ‘you’re welcome’ and went on to say…

_**KEverdeen:** I’m glad you messaged me, Mr. Mellark. I wanted to know how Daisy was doing after her first day, but I didn’t want to disturb you._

_**PMellark:** She's doing well. And you wouldn’t have been disturbing me. Actually, I wanted to call you to thank you over the phone since I couldn’t in person, but I’ve been busy since I got home, and I was worried about calling too late or disrupting your evening._

_**KEverdeen:** Well, you’re welcome to call if you want. Or, there’s always the messenger. As for lateness, like I said, I’m usually up until 10/10:30 or 11. I don’t often get messages past 8, but when I do, I try to answer them._

_**PMellark:** You’re very accessible, Miss Everdeen._

_**KEverdeen:** Really? Accessible? I’ve never been told that._

Peeta grinned. Her statement seemed so sweet and innocent. Or, perhaps she was being sarcastic. It was tough to tell, and she did seem to have a dry sort of humor; however, he suspected her words were sincere.

_**PMellark:** Yes, but you don’t have to worry about my bothering you too late. Me, I’m usually in bed by 10 at the very latest, since I get up at 4 AM. Baker’s hours. Granted, my sleep schedule is a wreck right now, what with the move and managing construction of the bakery._

Okay, so apparently, he couldn’t stop. The beast had been unleashed, and he just kept spouting more and more information at her that she hadn’t asked for.

_**KEverdeen:** That is early, but I’m not unused to getting up early when I go hunting._

_**PMellark:** An outdoorsy girl, are you, Miss Everdeen?_

_**KEverdeen:** Yes._

_**PMellark:** That’s nice. I went camping a couple of times, but I admit I had far too many modern conveniences to really make it count._

There he went again, revealing his life story…

_**KEverdeen:** Well, seems like you’re due for a night of roughing it. You haven’t really experienced life until you’ve had to survive at least one night on your own in the wilderness._

_**PMellark:** I’ll keep that in mind. Who am I to argue with a teacher?_

He added a winking face and immediately wished he could recall it. Well, he could delete it, but she’d probably already seen it. Oh God, now he really was flirting, wasn’t he? He wasn’t certain; it’d been so long since he’d flirted for real, but if not, he was certainly straddling that no-no line. Whatever he was doing, he was pretty rusty at it, and he seemed to be doing it unconsciously.

“Daddy,” Peeta heard Daisy call from her room.

“Coming, pumpkin!”

* * *

_**Katniss** _

Surprisingly, Katniss had been enjoying her conversation with Mr. Mellark, and she hadn’t realized just how long they’d been talking, or the time, until Mr. Mellark said he needed to go.

_**PMellark:** I’m sorry, Miss Everdeen, but I need to go. Have to tuck the little one in and maybe read a story._

_**KEverdeen:** Oh, of course._

_**PMellark:** I’m sorry for keeping you so long._

_**KEverdeen:** You didn’t._

_**PMellark:** Thank you again._

_**KEverdeen:** You’re welcome._

_**PMellark:** Goodnight, Miss Everdeen. It’s been a pleasure._

_**KEverdeen:** Goodnight, Mr. Mellark._

* * *

_**Peeta** _

After tending to Daisy, a curious Peeta got on his laptop in bed and pulled up the school’s website, hoping to find a picture of Miss Everdeen. None. Not a single blessed one. She wasn’t even in the group pictures with the kids from her previous classes during their outings. How could that be? He also tried the social media sites, which, if she was on, her accounts must be set to private.

Damn, did she work for the C.I.A. on the sly?

Frustrated, both by his failure to find her and the fact that he was even trying, he shut his laptop and ran a hand through his mussed curls. “What the hell am I doing?” he muttered, feeling equal parts pathetic and creepy. If this wasn’t a cry for help…

He really needed to go on a date or something if he was reminiscing about his high school crush and taking a fascination in his daughter’s teacher‒who he hadn’t even met and had only spoken to once, through messenger, no less. But he couldn’t help it. He simply had to know more about this woman Daisy was so impressed with, this pretty, smart, cool woman with a braid.

Disgusted with himself, Peeta sighed. Okay, so a quick internet search might be a little nosy, but it didn’t constitute cyberstalking, as long as it stopped there. From now on, though, he decided to be direct.

He was sure they’d meet eventually. As a parent he had every right to meet his daughter’s teacher, that is, if it was for a legitimate reason. He could wait for the opportunity to present itself.

In the meantime, he was truly feeling as though the online thank you wasn’t good enough, especially when combined with the guilt over his borderline cyberstalking. He didn’t know when he’d have the chance to meet Miss Everdeen in person, but at least he could send her something. Suddenly inspired, he hopped out of bed and headed to the kitchen to do a little baking.

* * *

_**Katniss** _

First thing in the morning, to Katniss’s great surprise, she received a basket, a very tasty-smelling basket covered with a checkered cloth and embellished with a soft orange bow very similar to the ribbon Daisy was wearing yesterday. She suspected who it was from. Orange, again. Was it like his calling card? Could it be from him? And what reason would he have for this?

Unable to contain her curiosity, Katniss peeked underneath the cloth (hoping there was chocolate) only to find it filled with muffins‒or, more precisely, muffin tops. She pulled the covering off all the way and eyed the beautiful presentation of tasty treats.

What was this? What did she do to deserve this lovely bit of domesticity? And was it really from Mr. Mellark? She picked up the card that’d been neatly tucked in on one side, opened it, and read the elegant script, which almost looked like calligraphy.

_Dear Miss Everdeen,_

_I just wanted to thank you again for being so kind and welcoming to Daisy. I hope you’ll enjoy these homemade muffin tops. Yes, just the tops, because that seems to be the only part people really like. I hope you’re not allergic to anything, but just in case, I’ve included a list of the ingredients I used below._

_Sincerely,_

_Peeta Mellark_

_P.S. I hope I didn’t come off too strong last night. I don’t always know when to shut up._

_P.S.S. I look forward to further conversations and to meeting you in the near future. :)_

_The last PS was followed by a full list of ingredients as promised._

So, it _was_ from Mr. Mellark.

Wow. How thoughtful of him. A grin spread across Katniss’s lips as she reread the card; then she carefully placed it in her top desk drawer, re-covered the basket, and picked it up. It was heavier than it looked and wider than she was, but she managed.

Katniss headed off to the teachers’ lounge with her basket, for it was far too much to eat on her own. Of course, she knew what she was getting into. She’d figuratively be Little Red Riding Hood facing down, not just one but several, wolves, who would be equally ravenous for goodies and gossip.


	6. Sweets, Treats, and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss gets harassed over her basket of baked goods by several colleagues, and Gale seems to want to reconnect. Katniss is pleased to see how well Daisy is getting along with Rue’s daughter. Daisy brings up her mother, stirring up old feelings in Peeta. Katniss receives a call from an increasingly friendly Mr. Mellark, and she’s uncertain what to do about his request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I do not own any rights to Suzanne Collins’ characters or The Valley Song. Just borrowing them for a bit.

_**Katniss** _

The moment Katniss stepped into the teacher’s lounge with her basket in tow, she was accosted.

“Where did you get that?!” exclaimed Johanna, already putting her grubby paws all over Katniss’s muffins.

With a sigh, Katniss yanked the basket back. “I’m willing to share, but do you have to touch them all, Johanna?”

“Sorry, Brainless. Oops, can’t call you that anymore, right?” They’d finally had their race, and Katniss had won; as payment, she’d demanded Johanna never call her by that affectionate nickname again.

Of course, Katniss had agreed to take Jo’s bus duty, anyway, because she had nothing better to do. It wasn’t so bad. She enjoyed talking with Darius, who she considered a friend; although, he always seemed to hint at being more.

“So, _Kat_ ,” Johanna begrudgingly began, “where’d you get the basket?”

“It was a gift” was all Katniss said as she lugged her basket over to her usual table and settled in. Naturally, Johanna followed, taking a seat beside her.

Katniss picked up one of the muffin tops and surveyed it. It was a hearty-looking one with flecks of orange and drizzled with white icing that appeared to form a design‒a starburst licking at the edges of the muffin top. He’d labeled them all for reference; this one was a glazed orange nut muffin.

“From whom, may I ask?”

“From, uh,” Katniss hesitated. Any information was potentially dangerous in Johanna Mason’s hands, no matter how innocent. “...the father of one of my students.” She fixed her eyes on the crystallized sugar on top of the muffin.

“From a father?!”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, what did you do to deserve this? _Him_?”

“Certainly not,” sputtered Katniss, her ears burning. Johanna was incorrigible! Of course, she only said things like that to get to her because she considered her to be ‘pure.’

She may not date much, but Katniss hardly thought herself pure.

“Hmm, sure you’re not doing the nasty with some single dad, or...oh, he’s not married, is he?” Johanna sucked in her cheeks and rounded her lips, imitating a scandalized expression.

“I-I don’t think so...And no,” Katniss snipped. “No, I’m not.”

“Of course, you’re not,” smirked Johanna. “You’re way too pure for that.”

Katniss softly sighed and tore off a piece of her muffin. She’d decided on the orange one because, for some reason, it was calling out to her. The chocolate one was, too, but she was rather curious about the orange. It looked healthier, yet sweet. Not that any of them were likely to be healthy‒they all appeared to have about a thousand calories each, but she couldn’t bother to care right now.

She popped the bite in her mouth, and her taste buds went nuts. The texture was perfect; it was moist and surprisingly, still warm with just the right mixture of sweet and spice. She took another, larger bite and chewed thoroughly.

Katniss noticed Johanna’s hand hovering over the muffin tops like a claw. “May I?” she asked in her phony sweet tone. Katniss nodded, and Johanna immediately snatched up a blueberry crumble one. “Then, what?” Johanna carelessly asked, spinning the muffin top between her blunt-tipped, black-painted fingernails.

Oh, right. She was referring to what she’d done to deserve the basket.

“Nothing, really. I was just decent to his kid.”

Appearing unimpressed, Johanna took her first bite of the muffin top. And immediately, she emitted a satisfied sound. “Oh my god.”

“Good?” asked Katniss, her lips tilting.

“Good doesn’t cover it. Maybe _I_ should be decent to the guy's kid in P.E.” Johanna took another big bite. “God,” interjected Jo, shaking her head in disbelief. “Marry him.”

“What?” Maybe she’d misheard; Johanna’s mouth _was_ stuffed to capacity right now, her cheeks poking out like a chipmunk’s.

After swallowing, Johanna casually reiterated, “I said ‘marry him.’ You should marry him, whoever he is. Or, at least drag him to your bed and pleasure him so good he makes these,” she waved her hand over the basket of muffins, “for you every single morning. Oh, and don’t forget to make sure he sends you off to work with plenty of leftovers,” she added with a wry grin.

“Johanna,” Katniss sniffed, “I’ve never even met the guy.” She popped another piece of muffin into her mouth. It made complete sense he was a baker. These muffin tops were definitely made by a professional.

“Doesn’t matter. A guy who can bake like this wouldn’t be bad to have around. Bet he’d whip up all sorts of _romantic_ dinners for you, too.” Johanna’s nose had crinkled almost involuntarily at the word ‘romantic.’ It was like a dirty word for her. 

“I see the way to your heart is through your stomach, Johanna,” quipped Katniss. But, admittedly, it didn’t hurt in her case, either. She’d grown up poor, so good, quality food and treats such as these weren’t exactly staples in her home.

“The heart’s not involved. I just believe in taking opportunities when they come up.”

“Oh, I know,” smirked Katniss, continuing to eat. That did seem to be Johanna’s motto.

“Wait." 

It was as if a light bulb went on over the short-haired gym teacher’s head. “Bake...hey, this basket wouldn’t happen to be from the hot baker, Mellark, would it?”

Katniss sniffed. “So what if it is?” She picked at her muffin, avoiding eye contact. “And I wouldn’t know about that,” she mumbled, “if he’s hot.”

“Ohh, Brain-Katniss.” Johanna tsked at her.

“What?”

Johanna ignored her question and instead, began devouring her second muffin top. “Hot damn. I’m definitely hitting up his bakery as soon as it’s open. The man has skills in this particular arena.”

Katniss concurred.

“He’s nice, too,” she inserted, not knowing what had possessed her to say so aloud.

Johanna raised a brow. “Oh? Thought you hadn’t met him.”

“I talked to him a little last night, through the messaging service.”

“Is that right?” The corner of Johanna’s lips twitched. “Well, whatever you said to him, maybe you can say it again, so we can get more goodies.”

“Like I said, I didn’t do or _say_ anything special.” Katniss pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “He was just appreciative that I was nice to his daughter on her first day.”

An impish grin crossed Johanna’s features. “This basket,” she pointed, “suggests more than that. Now I’m very curious about this conversation. You flirt with him or something?”

Johanna met her eyes, and Katniss flushed. She supposed it was a legitimate question. The basket did seem a bit...excessive.

“No,” Katniss asserted. At least, she didn’t think she had. Not on purpose, anyway. “He’s just a nice guy.”

Johanna gave an exaggerated sigh. “So naive, so brainless…” Katniss glared over at her. “What? I didn’t call you ‘Brainless;’ I said you were acting it.”

Katniss scowled.

Leave it to Johanna Mason to find a loophole.

“Anyway,” continued Johanna, “maybe you should do something to reciprocate his...generosity.”

“I can’t bake.” Not well, anyway. At least, not well enough to be appreciated by a baker.

“There are other ways to say thank you,” replied Johanna, a devious twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, well, I’m definitely not going to say thank you the way you do.”

“Hey,” Johanna jabbed a finger at her, “that was one Christmas party!”

Katniss shook her head, recalling that fateful Christmas party, during which Johanna had stripped down and strutted around completely nude like it was nothing. Katniss couldn’t even look at her after that. Everyone had been shocked by the display, of course, but Johanna didn’t receive any kind of consequence for her actions‒probably because Principal Abernathy enjoyed the display a little too much, and was smashed enough to indicate so.

Rolling her eyes at the awful memory, Katniss stood. She announced she was going to make some tea and demanded Johanna not eat all of her muffins while she was gone. She then went to the cabinet to retrieve her mug and selected a package of English breakfast tea. After she’d prepared the hot water, she brought the tea bag and two packets of sweetener back to the table, and she ripped open the package. Dipping her tea bag into the steaming water, Katniss's eyes flitted across the muffins, scanning for her next choice. She’d have just one more for now. Maybe the chocolate one...yeah.

“Maybe I should thank Peet‒Mr. Mellark for the gesture,” mused Katniss aloud. “Write him a note or something.” Truthfully, it was weighing on her mind‒she didn’t like owing people, and Johanna was right that Peeta’s gesture was grand enough to require some kind of reciprocation. What was further, maybe she should even be upset with him. How could he do such a nice, completely unnecessary thing and leave her feeling like crap? But maybe she was making too much of it... 

“I’d say it’s the very least you can do," scoffed Johanna. 

Tiredly, Katniss sighed. “What more would you have me do? _Me_?” She pointed to her chest, emphasizing that they were in fact talking about her.

“Do I have to coach you on everything?” Johanna groaned. “Take him out to dinner or something.”

“Why would I do that? That seems really inappropriate, Jo. And like I told you‒”

“I know, I know,” Johanna rolled her eyes, “You’ve never met him, and he’s the father of one of your students, yada yada yada. Well, I’ll tell you what, maybe you should toss out that rulebook of yours and remove the stick from your ass.”

Katniss gaped slightly.

“What?” shrugged Johanna. “You’re no spring chicken, you know.”

Katniss poked her lip out sulkily. “I just turned 30...”

“Yeah, well, in the 1800s, you’d be an old spinster hag by now.”

“Gee, thanks.” She narrowed her eyes at Jo. “Why do you care so much? You’re single, too.” Johanna was also older than her by a few years.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind being alone.”

“I don’t mind, either.” And truly, Katniss didn’t‒most of the time, anyway. Most of the time she was a simple, solitary person, easily able to occupy herself.

Johanna’s responding chuckle was almost sadistic. Yep,” She popped the p, “that might be how it ends, huh, Everdeen? You and me. Two lone female alpha wolves, the lionesses. No mates, just us.” She went off in thought a moment. “...Maybe it’s better that way…You know, in nature, it’s usually the females who are the badass ones, who do all the hunting and shit.”

“Thanks for the lesson.”

“Well,” Johanna raised her eyes toward the ceiling, “Maybe it’ll just be me,” she said after a moment. And Katniss felt a twinge in her chest. Although she’d never admit it, Johanna was lonely.

“As for you, you may think you're content playing the role of the lonely spinster for now, but I know better."

Okay, she no longer felt sorry for Johanna. "What do you mean?" 

"Just that it won't last. You'll eventually find your...mate.”

Why must she keep referring to them as animals in the wild?

“You’re a huntress, right, Kat?” Katniss nodded. “Well, isn’t that just perfect?”

“What is?”

“You going out to hunt like a true female in the wild, bringing home the spoils to be cooked up nice by your little baker boy...And _I know_ ,” Johanna cut her off before she could repeat her argument about never having met Peeta Mellark.

“But if it’s not him, it’ll be someone else." Johanna sniffed derisively. "Know how I know?” Katniss waited for her to go on. “Because even if you won’t admit it, you want companionship. Someone to take care of, at least.”

Johanna stopped there, apparently realizing by the expression undoubtedly on Katniss’s face that she’d crossed a line. She gave no apology‒Katniss hadn’t expected one–and Katniss said nothing in reply; they simply switched subjects like they always did when things turned serious. And they were right back on talking about muffins.

* * *

In class that morning, Daisy Mellark sat at her desk, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever; apparently, Brandan’s teasing hadn’t derailed her one bit from volunteering to answer questions. Perhaps Katniss’s little talk had helped. Or, maybe it was the confidence of having a friend nearby‒Katniss had moved Lark and Daisy’s desks side-by-side this morning. She knew it wouldn’t become a problem, and she felt Daisy could use a little support. Not to mention, she had a few other desks to switch around, anyway.

As for Brandan, Katniss had briefly wondered if he would even be in class today, or if he'd be pulled out. But as expected, Cato’s threat had all been a bluff, because there sat Brandan, at his desk, in its new spot (away from Mirakel, the likely instigator), looking slightly irritated, yet present. Katniss met Brandan’s eyes and mouthed him a good morning. He looked away at first, but then contritely turned his blue eyes back and nodded at her.

The morning flew by. Katniss engaged the class in math games and had them work on their handwriting, and before she knew it, it was time for lunch.

Alone at her table, Katniss nibbled on a chunk of lamb. She'd brought leftover lamb stew, which she’d made last night, along with some dried plums for lunch. It was a welcome change, eating alone. Oh, not that she disliked the other teachers or was on the outs with any of her friends, except maybe Johanna, but it just happened to turn out that way. Once in a while, the silence was refreshing.

 _Lone wolf_.

“You said it, Jo,” muttered Katniss. Even if Johanna’s words had gotten to her, there was a ring of truth to them. Maybe they'd hit too close to home.

* * *

At recess, Brandan played more nicely than usual, and Katniss had to wonder if his mother had had a chat with him about behaving‒Clove may not be the nicest person, but she was more sensible than Cato.

Meanwhile, Daisy spent her time happily skipping around with Lark. Katniss smiled at the sight of the two of them swinging, walking hand-in-hand, playing make-believe, and picking and weaving flowers through one another’s hair. Relief flowed over her knowing that her plan to find a friend for Daisy had come to fruition, and so quickly.

 _You certainly make friends easily, don’t you, Daisy?_ mused Katniss. But how could she not? She was so sweet and kind and vibrant. Basically, if Daisy Mellark was a color, she’d be bright yellow.

Katniss caught sight of Lark and Daisy approaching just then, each girl with her hands behind her back.

“Hello, you two,” she greeted.

“Hi, Miss Everdeen,” both chimed, smiling.

Katniss smiled, too. “Well, what do you have behind your backs?” She pretended to try and catch a peek, and both girls turned rapidly to hide whatever was behind them.

A warm, shy smile spread across Daisy's face, and her blue shot to the earth as she dug her toe into it.

Meanwhile, Lark was grinning like mad, her brown eyes shimmering with mirth and just a pinch of mischief. “Nuh-tthing,” sing-songed Lark. They both giggled‒the true sign that something was afoot.

“Oh, alright,” heaved Katniss. “I thought maybe it was something for me.” She shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”

“It is!” blurted Daisy, who immediately slapped one hand over her mouth while keeping the other safely tucked behind her back. After a couple of seconds, she removed her hand and turned to Lark, mumbling ‘sorry’ for apparently spoiling the surprise.

“It’s okay.” Lark nudged Daisy with her elbow before looking up at her teacher. “They are for you, Miss Everdeen.”

“I see. Well, how thoughtful. That is, unless it’s a trick...” Katniss placed her hands on her knees and leaned down, meeting them at eye level. “Is it?”

“No, no, no!” they insisted, loudly.

“Good. I didn’t think so; you both are too sweet to do such a thing. Should I close my eyes?”

“Yes,” chirped Daisy with a bob of her head. Lark nodded along.

“Okay.” Katniss shut her eyes and stuck out her hand. After a second or two, she felt a clump of something soft and slightly damp tickling the palm of her hand. Petals. Fuzzy stems. Unmistakably, she was holding flowers. And by feel and context, she had a pretty good idea of which ones.

Given the okay, Katniss opened her eyes and confirmed that she was, in fact, holding a small bouquet of flowers.

A bouquet of dandelions, to be precise.

It came as no surprise that Daisy and Lark would give her dandelions. The common, hardy flower grew rampantly on the playground, readily at their disposal.

A sweet gift, one which only a child would give...

Yes, only a child could love a dandelion. A child, and _her_. Although not beloved by many, for Katniss, the bright yellow blooms held a special significance and reminded her of a bittersweet day long ago.

“Thank you,” she muttered, curling her fingers around the green stems of the golden yellow flowers. Pleased with her response, the girls skipped off. 

* * *

After the lunch break, Katniss had the class complete worksheets up until their elective for the day, which was gym with Coaches Hawthorne and Mason. While they were there, Katniss went to the principal’s office to check in with Haymitch.

Miss Trinket waved Katniss on, and Katniss gave a single rap on Haymitch’s partially opened door just prior to pushing it all the way open. Haymitch was, of course, not at all busy, or even pretending to look it. He was kicked back, feet up on his desk, half-dozing... At least he wasn’t drinking. Unless that is, this was the result of it…

“Haymitch,” Katniss called out, raising her voice slightly to ensure she’d be heard.

Haymitch sucked in some air and snorted. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open and blearily stared at her. “Sweetheart,” he grumbled. “Well, thanks for knockin’.”

“I did knock. You were asleep.”

“Nah, I wasn’t. Just cat nappin’.”

“Same thing,” said Katniss, a set expression on her face.

Haymitch scoffed, then he plastered on a brittle smile. “You need somethin’, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Did you happen to‒?”

“Wait, wait,” Haymitch waved his hands in the air. “First things first. I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with any more of your crazy requests on an empty stomach.” She began to protest, but Haymitch cut her off with, “Any of those goodies from Lover Boy left over?”  
  
Katniss sighed. “Would you please stop referring to him as ‘Lover Boy,’ Haymitch?” That was, apparently, Haymitch's nickname for Mr. Mellark. When she’d dropped by his office this morning to ‘bother’ him, as he put it, about another matter, Haymitch had been the one to hand off the basket to her, simply telling her it was from ‘Lover Boy.’  
  
 _Who the hell is Lover Boy?_ She’d wondered at the time. Of course, Haymitch didn’t make the most reliable delivery or messenger boy, so it could have been from a priest for all she knew then.

“What gives with that, anyway, sweetheart?” smirked Haymitch.  
  
Katniss thinned her lips. “It was just a thank you from a parent.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. A _male_ parent, to boot.”  
  
“Does it matter?” Katniss lowered her head and stared at Haymitch from beneath her lids.   
  
What was everyone’s deal? It wasn’t like there was anything unusual between Peeta and her, or anything at all, for that matter. Why couldn’t everyone simply let her enjoy her bounty in peace. She was the type raised to appreciate what she had, regardless of where it came from. If she’d have been smart she would have stuffed a muffin top into her mouth and hid the basket away for later. Of course, that wouldn’t have stopped Haymitch. He knew of it, so he would have come sniffing around eventually.  
  
“Oh yes, it was from that nice young father of the new girl,” pointed out Effie from her desk. “Very polite. Clean-cut young man. Unlike some people…” Effie cast a not-so-subtle glance toward Haymitch’s doorway and jabbed one of her long, fluorescent pink-nailed fingers in the air.  
  
“Hey, this is my signature look.” Haymitch stroked his scraggly beard proudly. “And, by the way, it’s nowhere near as wild as the beard on that freak superintendent over at Capitol Elementary you used to go with.”  
  
Miss Trinket stood abruptly, protesting, her voice taking on that high-pitched, overly affected accent she got when she was upset or impassioned about something.  
  
Katniss stepped aside when Miss Trinket inevitably stormed into Haymitch’s office. Leaning back against the opposite wall, she folded her arms tightly while they continued to argue.   
  
Was she supposed to be hearing this? These two had been dancing around each other for years, and everyone knew it, even someone like her, who wasn’t one for gossip. There was clearly more to their ‘relationship’ than met the eye, but they didn’t typically fight about personal things so openly.  
  
For their benefit, but mostly hers, Katniss cleared her throat.  
  
“What, sweetheart?” Haymitch barked, so abruptly it nearly made Katniss jump. “You needed somethin’, right?”  
  
“Yes,” she breathed. “Did you happen to approve the permission slip for the nature walk?”  
  
Grumbling, Haymitch said, “Uh, I think it’s around here somewhere...” He began shifting things around on his desk and picking up this and that and looking underneath it. Katniss tapped her fingers against her arm.  
  
“It’s right there in the box atop your desk, fool!” snipped Miss Trinket, pointing. “I mean,” she smiled sweetly, “Haymitch.”  
  
“Oh yeah, lookie here. Here it is.” He picked it up and squinted at it. Effie traded a look of annoyance with Katniss.  
  
“He’ll sign it and get it to you before the end of the day, dear,” Miss Trinket spoke for Principal Abernathy.  
  
“Thank you,” said Katniss succinctly. She turned to leave, but Haymitch called her back.  
  
“Wait right there. I ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart.”  
  
With a huff, Katniss turned back, and he beckoned her with a hand.   
  
“Oh, don’t you go sighin’ and rollin’ your eyes at me like a teenager, sweetheart. It ain’t gonna take long.”  
  
“What is it, Haymitch?” asked Katniss in a clipped tone.  
  
“Well, about this muffin business...what’s that all about, sweetheart? Should I be concerned? You taking bribes, or is something going on?”  
  
“Neither. He was simply expressing his appreciation.” Katniss stopped to consider her justification. “Just think of it like Teacher Appreciation Day. You don’t fault the children for bringing me an apple or a small gift, do you?”  
  
“No, but the man baked you a whole freakin’ basket of muffins!”  
  
“Tops.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“They were only the tops.”  
  
“Like that matters! Coulda been a stuffed goose in there for all I care. Point is, it was unusual.”  
  
“Yeah, I agree. A stuffed goose would have been unusual,” sassed Katniss.  
  
Haymitch groaned. “Don’t be evasive, sweetheart.” He rubbed his temple vigorously. “You’re giving me a headache.”  
  
As if it was her doing.   
  
Resignedly, Katniss sighed. “It was nothing, Haymitch. I don’t know why Mr. Mellark decided to bake a basket of muffin tops for me, but I didn’t do anything to warrant it.”  
  
“Alright, fine.” Haymitch waved a hand dismissively. “I’m losin’ interest in this.”  
  
Oh, Katniss knew Haymitch was never going to do anything. Not like he could punish her over something so trivial that was pure speculation and not even her fault. He might try and confiscate the basket, for his own selfish reasons, but they were half-eaten anyway.  
  
Haymitch ran a hand through his greasy hair, “I s’pose I can overlook this matter if...you share.” He raised a thick brow in anticipation.  
  
As expected.  
  
Admittedly, Katniss had been tempted to hoard all the muffins away‒old habits die hard, she supposed. Not that she hadn’t planned on setting aside some for her friends. And she had. She’d saved a carrot cake one for Annie, her favorite; a cinnamon apple for Rue; a vanilla with sprinkles for Lark; a hearty, whole grain for Thresh, and a banana nut for Gale.

Odd how Mr. Mellark baked just the right quantity and in such a variety as to cover her and her close friends. Whether by baker’s intuition or simple logic, he’d managed to make everyone’s favorites in seemingly the perfect proportion. He’d said in his note that it was because he didn’t know what she liked, but it seemed a bit much. She wondered if he’d intended for her to share. That would make his gift much more appropriate, and sharing did make her feel less guilty and obligated.  
  
Yeah, surely, he meant for her to share. He couldn’t have expected her to eat them all herself. Oh, not that she couldn't do it with a little time, maybe over the course of a week or two. She definitely knew about rationing her food, but of course, baked goods were best consumed fresh; everyone knew that, baker or no.  
  
There were definitely leftovers, but Katniss made like she’d given Haymitch her last one. Not that she was greedy, but they were _her_ muffins.

And she was eager to sample the rest. Some of them she’d never heard of before, and there was even a glazed one made with the delicious wild berries that grew just outside the Seam. It made Katniss nostalgic for her childhood; she only hoped Mr. Mellark hadn’t mistaken them for the poisonous ones which looked almost exactly the same.  
  
“I thought you might say that,” replied Katniss, shaking her head. “And I’ll have you know, I took them to the teacher’s lounge today.”  
  
“Damn,” rasped Haymitch. “Knew I shoulda stopped by there...”  
  
“I expected you to give me a hard time, too, so I saved one for you.”  
  
“Really?” Haymitch’s gray eyes lit up. “My, aren’t we generous.” He smirked. “...Only one?”  
  
“Don’t press your luck. Do you want it or not?” Haymitch harrumphed his assertion, and Katniss pulled the wrapped muffin top from her messenger bag and took it over to Haymitch’s desk.  
  
“Here,” she held it out to him, “I think this one was dipped in rum.”  
  
“Oh, even better.” Haymitch greedily snatched it from her hand.  
  
“I would have saved you one, Miss Trinket,” Katniss said, turning toward her, “but I know you’re not eating carbs right now.”  
  
“Oh, that’s right, dear.” She waved a regal hand. “Not to worry, of course, but thank you for the thought.”  
  
Katniss nodded then took her leave, but not before shooting back a reminder to Haymitch to not forget about the permission slip. She wasn’t overly concerned, though. Prompt and efficient Miss Trinket wouldn’t leave him be until he got it done.

* * *

Katniss ended the day by reading two chapters of a story to her class. It was a series about a courageous young girl who was forced to survive on her wits alone out in the wilderness. It was a personal favorite of Katniss’s, not just from childhood but all-time. When her students had left, Katniss tucked the rest of her muffins, the orange cloth, and the orange ribbon into her bag, left the basket in her classroom storage closet, and headed out.   
  
She decided to stop by the sports field to see Gale and give him his muffin. He was just finishing up with archery club when she arrived. Katniss stood back and watched the last couple of shots. Gale released his students, then, and as they began to trickle off the field, Katniss approached him. One student waved and smiled at Katniss as she walked by, and Katniss returned the friendly greeting, referring to the student by name.  
  
“Catnip, hey,” Gale greeted, his back turned to her. Naturally, he’d noticed her presence long before.   
  
“Hey, Gale.” She pulled out his muffin, and when he turned around, she extended it on the palm of her hand . "Here."   
  
“What’s this?” He stared at it as if it were poison.  
  
“From the new baker in town,” she told him. He eyed it even more suspiciously. “Just take it, Gale. It’s not baked with nightlock.”  
  
Gale sniffed amusedly. “Arsenic? Rat poison?”

“Please, Gale. If I wanted to kill you, I’d do it more directly.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, I know that.” They traded smiles. She kind of missed this, this friendly exchange between them.  
  
“Although,” she one-armed shrugged. “I can’t speak for Mr. Mellark.” There was that one luscious-looking but questionable berry one… Maybe Daisy’s dad was trying to off her, after all. It would be the perfect crime, albeit with no real motive.  
  
“Well, looks good. Guess I’ll take my chances.” Gale finally accepted the muffin top. He twisted it around in his hand, observing it from all angles. “Mellark? He the new baker?”  
  
“Yeah. His kid’s in my class. Cute little blonde girl.”  
  
“I know the one. He married?”  
  
“Not that I know of.”  
  
“Hm.” He examined the muffin.  
  
“What ‘hm?’” _Not you, too, Gale..._  
  
“Nothing.” He pressed his lips together. “The muffins for snack or something?”  
  
“No, just a thank you.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“Something to say, Gale?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Thank God Gale knew when to drop a matter, and was a man of few words.  
  
Seamlessly, they moved on to more comfortable talk.  
  
“So, think you’d wanna help out with archery club, Catnip?" He folded his wiry arms. "Now that my assistant coach’s dropped out, I could use it.”  
  
“I’ll check my schedule. But, are you sure, Gale? You know I can outshoot you. Might embarrass you in front of your students.” He may beat her at snares but never with a bow and arrow; that was her bread and butter.  
  
Gale gave a derisive snort. “Nah, you’re outta practice, Catnip.”  
  
Thinning her lips, Katniss picked up a bow. It was smaller than hers and nowhere near as good of quality. It was meant for a teenage student, not a serious archer, and on D12’s budget, she couldn’t expect much. For sure, it couldn’t possibly compare with her father’s handmade bow, but it would do. She pinched an arrow between her fingers, nocked it, drew back, and let it fly.  
  
And she hit the foamy target dead center.  
  
Katniss whipped her head around. “Out of practice, am I?” She smiled satisfactorily at her old hunting partner.  
  
Gale shoved his hands into his pockets on exhale. “I stand corrected," replied he. Katniss smirked.  
  
Gale then began putting the archery equipment away, and Katniss offered to help. Once full of bows, Gale slung the old burlap equipment bag over his shoulder and picked up the rubber bin with the bale. Katniss slung the arrow tube over her shoulder and carried the bow and arrow rack, and they headed back toward the school.  
  
They walked in companionable silence for several minutes before Gale asked, nonchalantly, “Wanna go hunting this weekend?”  
  
She was a bit surprised. He hadn’t asked in a while, so she assumed he had some new girlfriend occupying all his time. That was the thing about Gale‒he wasn’t always a reliable hunting partner if he had something better to do. But she had no real reason to say no.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Sunday?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“I’ll pick you up. Usual time?”  
  
“Yeah.”

* * *

 _ **Peeta  
**_  
Daisy came home from school that afternoon chattering away about her new friend and asking if Lark could spend the night. Peeta agreed. He was so thankful Daisy was making friends and enjoying her new school thus far. And, of course, there was more talk of the wonderful Miss Everdeen.

Exhausted from work at the bakery site, Peeta decided to order a dinner delivery that night, and he and Daisy ate their takeout while chatting more about her day. On the subject of dinner, Peeta had told Finnick he’d take him out for his reward dinner sometime next week. He just needed to find a babysitter. She liked playing with Lark, but he couldn't impose upon her parents when he’d never even met them and hadn’t even invited Lark over to his house yet. He’d have her over first and let them offer before shipping Daisy off. Perhaps Daisy could go to Graham’s for the evening, or maybe Delly’s.

After dinner, Peeta did the dishes by hand and Daisy helped dry them, for the dishwasher in their new home wasn’t working. He’d have to tinker with it later, or possibly call a repairman. Once finished and after she'd gotten ready for bed, Peeta tucked in Daisy and kissed her forehead. It was kind of late, and he was tired, so he was glad when she didn't ask for a story. 

Peeta stood there a moment, looking down upon a strangely quiet Daisy as she pulled the covers up to her neck.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can we go see Mommy sometime?”

Daisy’s request floored him. She’d never asked that before, and he had to wonder what had made her think of her mother all of a sudden. He supposed it was only natural for her to be curious; she was getting to a certain age…Unfortunately, he didn’t quite know how to handle it.

He did know two things, though, that they were long overdue for a heartfelt conversation, and that he was in dire need of guidance.

He really should better explain it to her. Maybe he should even take her...there...although, he dreaded doing so. Truthfully, he’d been putting it off for a long time, and it’d been eating away at him.

All at once, Peeta felt exceedingly guilty for so many things‒for being so vague with Daisy (even though she’d been young at the time), for almost hoping she would forget so he didn’t have to tell her all over again, and for nearly forgetting himself.

Well, he never truly could, and he didn’t want to. He merely pushed it back into the furthest recesses of his mind when it got particularly painful.

Still, he wondered if he should mention Hyacinth more. Was he doing the right thing? He’d thought he was protecting his daughter, doing it for her own good, but was he? Was he wrong in letting Daisy tote a fantasy around for so long? Like father, like daughter, he supposed.

Regardless, the truth was coming calling as it always did‒because here Daisy was, old enough to understand and asking questions. His explanation years ago had been adequate then, but now...not so much.

Peeta felt so out of his league here; he definitely needed some advice. He could bring it up to Graham or his wife, possibly Delly, or even Finnick. Although, he was convinced they all disagreed with his methods, and at best, he’d get a tough love speech. And that’s not what he needed, or wanted right now.

They weren’t the ones in the thick of it; he and Daisy were. And his friends and family could never fully understand how they felt. Truth be told, Peeta didn’t have a clue how Daisy was feeling...

He made a mental note to have that long chat with her soon, perhaps after getting some professional advice.

But Daisy's mother wasn’t the only matter causing Peeta guilt. There was also the borderline virtual flirting he’d done with her teacher. What the hell was wrong with him? How low could he sink?

“Daddy, can Mommy sing to me tonight?” Daisy asked suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts.

Peeta's stomach dropped out. 

“Uh," he ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sweetheart.” He reached into the pocket of his pants and fished out his phone. He paced across the room while swiping and tapping his phone. Then he returned and handed the phone to Daisy. “Here you go, honey.”

Daisy popped up, and Peeta heard Hyacinth’s voice clearly as she put the phone up to her ear.

 _“Hi, baby! How’s my girl? I hope you’re being good!”_ He heard. 

“Yes, Mommy,” Daisy responded. Peeta walked over to the door. Folding his arms, he leaned against the frame.

 _“Has Daddy put you to bed?”_ came Hyacinth's unmistakable voice, loud and clear. 

“Yes, Mommy. ...I miss you, Mommy,” said Daisy, barely above a whisper.

Peeta’s heart clenched in his chest.

_“I miss you so much, baby, but I’ll be back soon. I promise.”_

“Okay, Mommy.”

_“And now you must sleep, my angel. But I bet you want a song first.”_

“Yes, Mommy.”

_**Down in the valley, the valley so low…** _   
_**Late in the evening, hear the train blow** _   
_**The train, love, hear the train blow** _   
_**Late in the evening, hear the train blow** _

At the heavenly sound of Hyacinth’s singing voice, Peeta shut his eyes tight, calling to mind her face when she would sing for him and for their daughter in the flesh. He’d heard this song...oh, going on...he didn’t know, maybe a couple of dozen times‒it was Hyacinth’s favorite‒and he remembered every single word.

It'd been a while since he'd last heard it.

Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to listen, so he slipped out and sank back against the wall on the other side of the door. And he waited. He knew exactly how long the song took: 3 minutes 28 seconds... 

“Hyacinth,” Peeta sighed out her name. “Why did you have to leave us?” he asked rhetorically of the opposite wall.

Just prior to the 3-minute 28-second deadline, Peeta returned to Daisy’s bedside. Hyacinth's song was just finishing, and as always, it ended with:

_**Roses are red, love; violets are blue.** _   
_**Birds in the heavens know I love you.** _   
_**Know I love you, oh, know I love you,** _   
_**Birds in the heavens know I love you.** _

After, Daisy handed back the phone, smiling contentedly. Then she lay back against her pillow. Peeta put the phone up to his ear and turned around.

 _ **You have one message pending deletion**_ , came the robotic voice on the other end.

He pulled back the phone and hit 9.

_**Message saved.** _

“Mommy sang nice," said Daisy as he approached her bed. 

Peeta swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, honey.”

“Miss Everdeen sings nice, too.”

Peeta’s brows knitted together. “Miss Everdeen sings?”

“Uh-huh. She sang to me about a meadow. It was really pretty. She said she sang it for her sister. I don’t know who sings better, Miss Everdeen or Mommy...They both sing really nice. Maybe just different.”

“Yes, probably,” said Peeta, unsure how else to respond. He leaned down to peck Daisy’s forehead again. “You should sleep."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart.”

"Goodnight, Daddy." 

Peeta left the room but lingered just outside the doorway, waiting for Daisy to fall asleep. To his relief, she dropped right off. If only _he_ would, too. Hearing Hyacinth sing may have put their daughter right out, but it’d had quite the opposite effect on him.

Peeta wandered aimlessly down the hall, unsure what to do with himself. Honestly, he was feeling like shit, and he could really use a friend to talk to. His brothers wouldn’t exactly be sympathetic, nor would Finnick. More than likely, his brothers would dismiss him (or not even answer), and Finnick would mean well but have nothing comforting to offer.

He supposed he could give Delly a call; she’d listen, even coddle him. But that wasn’t necessarily what he wanted, either. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted or needed anymore; all he knew was, he felt so alone...

Peeta hated being alone, despised feeling lonely. Oh, he had Daisy, of course, and she was plenty, yet selfishly, he yearned for more...and he despised himself for his weakness.

He should just sleep his mood off, he told himself; all would look brighter in the morning. But the prospect of going to bed alone felt like too much right now. He could sneak into Daisy’s room and cuddle up to her; he barely fit in her bed, but it might make him feel better and help him drift off. Was she getting too old for that, though? He definitely was. What grown man couldn’t sleep without someone to snuggle up to?

Okay, so most of the men he knew had wives or lovers to go to bed with. But he didn’t. Not anymore…

He considered baking or painting to occupy his thoughts, but he didn’t really feel like it. And the need to talk to someone was pricking at his brain. Perhaps he should resume his sessions with Dr. A. He could deal with it tomorrow.

But that did nothing to help him now.

Right now, only one name was popping up as someone he’d like to talk to, and he didn’t understand why. She knew nothing of his circumstances; they’d barely even spoken, and never directly. Still, strange as it was, he felt a connection with her, the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a long time. And for some reason, he had the urge to speak with her. Not through messaging; no, he wanted to hear her voice, the voice his daughter spoke so fondly of…

* * *

_**Katniss** _

Katniss picked up her phone after the third ring to hear “Miss Everdeen?” spoken in a man’s deep, yet gentle voice. “Uh…” Seemingly caught off guard, he cleared his throat, “is this Miss Everdeen?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Oh, good.” He exhaled. “This is Mr. Mellark, you know, Daisy’s father.”

The corners of Katniss’s lip tilted. “I remember.”

Another small throat clear. “Uh, I’m really sorry to call you at home, but I had your number on the contact sheet, and you said it was okay before, and I thought this might be easier. I hope it’s not too late.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said, shaking her head in amusement at his babbling. Surprising how a guy could seamlessly flirt online yet get flustered over a phone call. At least, that’s what she’d thought he’d been doing, but maybe she’d misread him entirely‒she hoped so. She wasn’t a good judge of these sorts of things. On second thought, yeah, she had to be imagining it. Mr. Mellark wasn’t flirting with her before, and now, he simply felt guilty for calling her late. Not that it was really late; it was just past 9...

Well, her thoughts were as disjointed as his words. 

“Did you have something you needed to talk about, Mr. Mellark?” she asked, coming to her senses. She hoped she didn’t come across as rude, especially considering how little she minded that he was calling. It was nice to put a voice to him, actually. “Is Daisy alright?”

“Yes, she’s perfect,” came his response. “Sleeping like an angel. I-I just...well, first off, did you get the basket?”

Katniss’s lips curled up into a small smile. “I did. Thank you, Mr. Mellark.”

“ _Peeta_. And good. Because you know, I wasn’t sure you would. When I dropped it off at the office this morning, I wasn’t sure it’d reach you.”

He'd dropped it off personally?

“That principal of yours…” Mr. Mellark‒ _Peeta_ throatily chuckled. It had a strangely pleasant quality to it. “He’s a real piece of work. Gave me the third degree. And to be honest, I was kind of worried he might eat them all himself.”

Katniss laughed, recalling being harangued by Haymitch over the basket of goodies. “Well, that was entirely possible, Mr. Mellark, er, Peeta, but don’t worry. I did receive it.”

“Oh, I'm glad. I hope you enjoyed them, Miss Everdeen.”

“Katniss,” she corrected. He’d asked her to call him by his first name, so she supposed she should extend him the same courtesy.

“Katniss." He repeated her name as if taste-testing it on his lips. It came out so silky smooth when he said it...

“Uh, I did, yes,” she confirmed, one corner of her mouth twitching involuntarily. “I had to fight off a few of the other teachers, but they were very good.”

Ugh. She made it sound as if she’d polished them all off herself, but of course, she'd given those ones away and scoured the rest away for later. “I did share, though,” she pointed out, thinking her remark a bit childish. 

Peeta’s deep chuckle echoed into the phone. “Well, that was generous of you. I thought I’d leave it up to you if you wanted to. I’m so glad you enjoyed them, though.” There was a pause, and she heard him rustling papers around. “So, I, uh, didn’t just call about the basket; I had a couple of questions about the nature walk next week.”

“Oh, you’re going?” Why did that give her little butterflies? 

“Yeah, I thought I would. I’ll have to move some things around, but I can make it work.”

“That’s good of you. Most parents are too busy to join in these field trips, especially the dads."

"Well, I am busy, but I figure I only have five, maybe six-max years to spend with Daisy before she no longer needs me.”

Katniss gently pressed her lips together. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Peeta. The way Daisy talks about you…” She paused. “And remember, no matter how old a girl gets she always needs her daddy.” This Katniss knew from personal experience.

“Thank you, Katniss. That means a lot.”

“Yeah, sure. So, um, you had some questions?”

“Yes.” He then went on to detail them, mainly logistical things she hadn’t included in the permission slip so as to keep it succinct. She did her best to answer, promising that everything would be taken care of but letting him know he could message or call her if need be. 

“Great, thanks.”

Katniss made to politely end the conversation, but Peeta halted her. “One more thing, Katniss.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I was wondering...uh, I hope this doesn’t sound weird...” His voice sounded thicker than before. 

What was he going to say? 

“I was wondering if...if maybe we could...be friends?”

“Friends?”

“Yeah. You see, I don’t know many people around here…” He cut himself off, and she remained silent. He choked out an uncertain laugh. “Don’t tell me there’s some crazy school policy against it.”

No, there was no school policy against a teacher befriending a parent per se, but it didn’t really seem like a good idea. Definitely not something she’d normally do. It seemed a little unprofessional to her, and she could only imagine the heat she’d get from parents like Cato who would accuse her of showing favoritism.

Why was Mr. Mellark trying to be friends with her, anyway? From the sounds of it, he was garnering plenty of attention around town, particularly female attention, at least according to Johanna.

“Oh, uh, well I don’t think Principal Abernathy cares about things like that.” Katniss recalled his comment from earlier, which was, for the most part, in jest. “Miss Trinket might think it’s not ‘proper decorum’,” she imitated Effie’s voice, and Peeta laughed, “but she has more important things to care about.”

“Good to know,” he replied, still chuckling a bit. “Then…?”

“You don’t even know me, Mr. Mellark,” she reminded, reverting back to his title in order to distance herself.

“I know. I was kinda hoping to change that.”

Was he flirting again? She couldn’t be imagining it this time, could she? Being his friend didn’t sound so bad, but was she being naive to think that’s all he meant? On the other hand, it was rather egotistical to think he wanted something more. 

She told herself Mr. Mellark’s friendliness was innocent, simply masquerading as forwardness.

“It’s just,” continued he, “I feel like we’ve hit it off, and…”

“Mr. Mellark.” Now, she felt she should interrupt. “We should get something clear. I don’t do this sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Did he sound disappointed? 

“Yeah, sure, I understand if you don’t want to, and I’m sorry for coming on so strong. Thing is, I haven’t interacted with anyone other than my daughter and a handful of friends and family in a long time, so I may be a bit rusty on meeting new people. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head as if he could see her. “And it’s not that I don’t want to… It’s just...I’m not very good at making friends.”

She could practically hear his grin on the other end. “Well, it’s easy, Katniss.”

 _For you maybe…_ Mr. Sunshine, father of the most angelic little girl she’d ever seen...

“But I’m not‒”

“There’s no pressure, Katniss, really. We’ll just go with the flow and see what happens. I already know the important things about you, like your favorite color and that you love the outdoors. I think we’ve gotten a pretty good start; the rest should be cake from here.”

He was a smooth operator, wasn’t he?

“Okay,” replied she. “I guess I'll see you next week...”

"See you next week." 

And maybe, just maybe they’d talk sooner than that… For some reason, the possibility made Katniss smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Everlark will see each other in person next chapter! Hang on a BIT longer… 
> 
> Teaser for Next Time: Daisy has Lark over for a sleepover, and Katniss has a grown-up one of her own with Rue while Thresh is away on business. While girlfriending it up with Rue, Katniss receives some messages, and she confesses to Rue about the boy who got away. Peeta goes on the nature walk with the class and meets Katniss face-to-face. Eagerly, Peeta volunteers for Miss Everdeen.


End file.
